#one time I heard that song live and the base was so insane it literally shook my chest cavity and it was so fitting

[juustozzi]

You can't save everyone if you can't even save yourself

[imhereonthekitchenfloor]

Rating Taylor Swift songs based on how they would be perceived by medieval peasants*: Fearless

*context: I'm imagining showing medieval peasants how awesome the future is by playing them the greatest music of our day and age (Taylor obviously). I am also trying to have them not go insane nor have me be accused of witchcraft.

Debut rating

👑🤺🛡⚔️👑🤺🛡⚔️👑

Fearless: pavement, parking lot, car?? After the confusing first verse this song becomes a really sweet tale about riding in a wagon or cart and ruining your nice dress for the oen you love. Considering most women only own one nice dress and one day dress, this is a beautiful sentiment🥹 8/10

Fifteen: the setting of this song is very confusing. It seems (?) Like this may be about the upper class going to school. A senior boy means a lord. A freshmen is a novice. Fifteen is a good age for marriage, but how is this not arranged? 3/10

Love Story: this is so romantic 😍 this is the most beautiful love story ever heard!! They were going to run away because they didn't have parental consent. Regardless of being peasants, they were each other's prince and princess. 10/10!!!

Hey Stephen: hasn't every medieval girl fallen in love with that boy that every other girl is offering their dowry to? Very relatable but nothing too special. 7/10

White Horse: fun fact! White horses have always been a fairytale symbol throughout ancient history so this symbol would translate well to medieval times. The idea of not being a princess or someone chasing after your hand with promise of a horse are also relatable medieval imagery. 8/10 due to some confusing and modern dialect.

You Belong With Me: 😳 what is happening? There's something here about unrequited love but the details are all lost. 2/10

Breathe: medieval friendships were usually a contractual agreement and the few positive and real friendships were reserved for men as masculinity was seen as a holy state and and only masculine beings could have real friends. This song is likely about 2 men having a falling out. Not super relatable but it mostly makes sense. 4/10

Tell Me Why: is this about a physical fight? Are knights facing off? Is this about lovers?? I'm a little lost on context. 5/10 just because everything but bullets and shots makes sense

You're Not Sorry: what happened here 😳 someone MESSED UP. Who knows what a phone is but this song hit deep. 9/10

The Way I Loved You: passion vs sensibility. A secret lover vs someone who is committed. Marriage is very rarely romantic, so this song feels very relatable. 8/10 because the acting insane is a bit questionable. Why are you risking being accused of witchcraft?

Forever & Always: this sounds like a devastating divorce. Perhaps there was an agreement with another women? That is one of several grounds for divorce and it would track with the anger in this song. Unfortunate. 3/10

The Best Day: pumpkins? Tractor? Car? Video? There's too many anachronisms to listen with ease but some lyrics still can hit. 5/10

Change: Are the serfs revolting??? Good for them! This song is so hopeful! 10/10 even though it's unrealistic.

Jump Then Fall: "jump then fall into me" in itself is a weird phrase but cute enough song about blossoming love. 6/10

Untouchable: a song of yearning AND the singer dreams of being literate. Relatable dreams. 7/10.

Come In With The Rain: (tbh, my twilight analysis of this song made this one really difficult) this is likely about another serf living on the masters property and it sounds scandalous. Clandestine affairs are not aligned with the medieval Christian values. 3/10

Superstar: Is this about a traveling performer or nobility visiting the town? Another song about being into the guy every girl will offer her dowry to, this time with more anachronisms. 4/10

The Other Side of the Door: Nothing is more exciting than passion in romance! It's so rare in the world of arranged marriage. I can't help but wonder if these two are in different social classes and thus the secrecy of throwing pebbles🤭 juicy! 6/10 for all the talks about phones and photographs

Today was a Fairytale: fairy tail? 👀 fairy as in the french word for fae as in A MAGICAL BEING??? "Time slowed down whenever you're around" ‼️ the ability to control the flow of time? "Can you feel this magic in the air. It must have been the way you kissed me" 🔪 THAT'S IT. LET'S GET EM BOYS. 0/10 (you have been burned at the stake for witchcraft)

You All Over Me: Did you say God? Medieval songs LOVE talking about God!! This song seems to be asking for penance. Some of the song is a little confusing but good job being devout! 9/10

Mr. Perfectly Fine: mister as in master, right? Is this song about a master (craftsman) leaving his betrothed? The grammar here is pretty confusing so 2/10

We Were Happy: HE WAS OFFERING LAND AND YOU HAD TO LEAVE HIM? You didn't have choices? Who had a larger dowry and best you to him? 😭 9/10

That's When: oh medieval songs love repetitive choruses and the words "that's when" really delivered! 9/10 because this would raise 0 red flags but also barely makes sense in modern English let alone medieval

Don't You: this album is full of unrequited love. I can imagine walking into the market place and seeing the peasant from two properties over with the woman he ended up choosing. Then he DARES to ask how you are? I don't like it. This is too much. 3/10

Bye Bye Baby: this is DEFINITELY a divorce song. I mean... a traditional couple meets at their wedding and these two used to share a bed so.... The sadness of the singer leads me to question the cause of divorce. Did he commit a crime? Were they spiritually related? Did he have relations with another woman? I have more questions than answers. 2/10

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

It was certainly the longest and the least tethered to reality -- and showed that Trump, an elderly man in decline, is unfit for the presidency.

JILL FILIPOVIC

JUL 19, 2024

I hope that you were not, like me, required to watch Donald Trump’s speech at the Republican National Convention on Thursday night (and into Friday morning), and were instead doing something more enjoyable: Going out with friends, sleeping soundly, driving hot fireplace pokers into your eyes, literally anything. The former president rambled on for more than 90 minutes in a speech that was incoherent, wildly digressive, and often bizarre without being at all entertaining.

Anyone who managed to stay awake for the whole speech could only draw one conclusion: This is not a well man, and this is not a man fit for the presidency.Subscribe

Donald Trump has never been a coherent or linear speaker, and during his 2016 campaign there was much speculation about how mental acuity and cognitive health, not to mention the smattering of personality disorders he appears to live with. But then he won, and he held office for four years, and when he ran again in 2020 his flaws were familiar and so didn’t garner as many headlines — “Donald Trump still an unhinged maniac” wasn’t exactly new, and so it didn’t make the news.

But now we’ve had a four-year-old break from Trumpism, and when the former president reemerged on stage at the RNC, he exhibited all of his previous flaws, plus a marked decline: He was slower, even less coherent, less connected to the crowd, less tethered to reality. It’s hard to overstate just how bad his speech was. If Joe Biden gave a speech that colossally disjointed and tortuously boring, the headlines tomorrow morning would all be about just how severely he has deteriorated — and how Democrats are crazy for running him.

Trump is an elderly man in decline. He has always been a narcissist, the kind of guy who will ramble on and on because no one in his life has ever told him no. Eight years ago he made clear he was living in his own reality, and has long put forward his own facts and his own version of the truth, all of which is pretty well divorced from the reality in which the rest of us live. This in and of itself should be disqualifying. For most Republicans, though, it was not. Eight years ago, Trump was exciting. He stuck it to the establishment. He was actually very funny (I know someone will get mad at me for saying that, but the guy — and especially his crude insults — is not exactly crafting sophisticated comedy, but he is funny). He was, as has been observed many times over, the Id of conservative America, willing to cast “compassionate conservatism” aside for something more muscular and aggressive. He gave an angry, coarse base permission to hate immigrants, hate feminists, hate racial justice activists, hate the coastal elite (except for Trump himself), hate all of the people who don’t look like them or think like them and who had in recent decades challenged their position at the top of the social and economic hierarchies. At the time, this was all very fresh and new. To people like me, it was shocking and appalling. But a lot of American voters do not see the world the way I do.

Those same Americans, though, have heard this song-and-dance before. The same way that Trump’s insanity doesn’t garner headlines because it’s old news, Trump himself may be less magnetic because it’s also familiar — and now aped by so many Republican politicians.

All of this is to say that Trump is far from invincible. He is, by any reasonable measure, a weak candidate. His RNC speech made clear just how weak he is — and how much weaker he has gotten since 2020. And with the right candidate opposing him, Democrats can make clear just how mentally unfit he is to run the country.

Trump is surrounded by yes men in a movement more akin to a cult than anything else. These people will stand by him. They will deny the obvious reality in front of their faces. That can be beneficial: They can flood social media with heavily-edited videos and insist that their invented narrative is the truth; that may persuade some voters.

But Democrats’ broader (although far from universal) refusal to deny the reality in front of them is a strength, too. It means Democrats can pivot and adjust. This, in the worst-case scenario, can result in chaos. But it can also mean getting off of a path that only leads us over an obvious cliff. Elections are not won only by turning out the most engaged and dedicated portion of your base. Right now, I fear that’s what both parties are banking on: Republicans are hoping MAGA loyalists will propel a clearly declining candidate across the finish line, while Democrats are hoping their voters see that the stakes are high enough that they would vote for the corpse of FDR over Donald Trump.

Trump’s biggest fans are also either delusional or dishonest, and I doubt they will admit that his speech was an abject disaster. But the rest of us should say exactly what we see: A man who is simply not cognitively, emotionally, or temperamentally equipped to sit in the Oval Office.

xx Jill

[thearsenalofmegadeth]

Lucretia

Dave Mustaine x Y/N POV story, slightly based off the song. (mature: vulgar language, gore, violence, use of drugs/alcohol(THEY ARE BOTH OF AGE.), talk of death)

Words: 1,369

Y/N’s POV: October 26th, 1989, 2:35AM

It was cold, frigid, brisk as hell, dark, black, eerie… y’know, it was a damn cold, dark and scary night. I mean, I was at least scared, my friend Dave wasn’t at all, well, he was sleeping, but I was still wide awake, we were in his room. I looked at the alarm clock on Dave’s bedside table, dammit, it was past 2AM, I had just realized he had fallen asleep hours ago. Now, it was just me and my own thoughts, just me, until I heard a creak, a very long, loud creak, I jumped at the sound and frantically flicked my eyes around the room, it was almost like someone was walking up the stairs or opening an old door. Whatever it was, it scared me, pretty bad. I was gonna get up but, I couldn’t move, holy shit, I was so scared I couldn’t move! I just sat there until I felt like I wasn’t frozen in my own body, then I got up and went downstairs to investigate.

I opened the door and walked out, quietly shutting it behind me so I didn’t wake up Dave. There was a chill running down my spine, but I was brave, I was no pussy and ghosts are NOT real. Like seriously, who believes that-... what was that. I had heard another creak, this time it sounded closer to me, but it still scared me just as bad as the first time. I cleared my throat, 

“Hello..? Is anyone there?”

God I sounded crazy, but if there is someone there, then they better reveal themselves because I was freaked out, really freaked out. I made my way to the kitchen, getting myself a glass of water before heading back up to Dave’s room, the stairs being squeaky were not helping how scared I was though. I walked into Dave’s room and sat on the floor by the bed, Dave was still sound asleep. Like, dead asleep. Until he wasn’t. He groaned and looked at me, 

“What’re you still doing up, man, it’s almost 3AM.”

Dave’s POV: October 26th, 1989, 2:50AM

I had just woken up again, I think I could have fallen asleep at around… 10PM? Not too sure, but I woke up. Y/N was sitting next to the bed, they looked scared though, I dunno what they were scared about but hey, at least I wasn’t. Then there… I-... was that a creak? What was that? Holy shit, now I know. I sprung up and went over to the door, opening it and looking down the hallway, there was nothing, no one coming up the stairs, no one walking in the halls, nothing. Y/N was staring at me like I was insane, 

“What?”

I said, they just continued looking at me the same way, I just shrugged it off and went downstairs. I walked into the living room and it felt strangely cold. I checked the windows, none of them were open. It was just really cold. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, I then turned around and looked back and forth, left and right, there was… nothing..? What was that then, a ghost? Unlike my friend, Y/N, I was a strong believer of the supernatural. I was scared, not as scared as they looked though, not at all. I ran back upstairs and opened the door to my room, walking in and looking at them.

 “I get why you’re scared now, there’s gotta be something downstairs, it was cold and something touched my shoulder. I dunno man.” 

I sounded insane, literally. They cleared their throat 

“Where..?”

I inhaled,

“The living room.”

Y/N got up and took my hand, pulling me downstairs. I almost fell down the stairs twice, but as soon as we got downstairs, they took me to the living room. 

Y/N’s POV: October 26th, 1989, 3:05AM

I led Dave into the living room, it was cold, he was right, but I didn’t believe that something touched his shoulder. Not at all. I didn’t believe it unless I saw it. 

“You’re right, it is cold.”

Dave looked at me like I was a total dumbass.

“Well no shit.”

I sat on the couch while Dave just stood there, looking around the room then back at me, then around the room again. Then there was another creak. Dave and I made eye contact, but there was a darkness in his eyes, like something was trying to quite literally steal his soul. They were already brown but they looked almost black. Then Dave jumped.

“I felt something again, I feel like something’s just fucking with me at this point. If you’re gonna scare me, fucking scare me! If you’re gonna kill me, kill me! Dammit!”

He was. FED. UP. I could tell he was pissed at whatever this thing was. Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder, I looked behind me and around the room, nothing but Dave, but he was nowhere close to me.

“I felt i-”

Dave interrupted me.

“I know, you believe me now?”

I shrugged. I really didn’t, but maybe a bit.

“Just a bit.”

Dave’s POV: October 26th, 1989, 3:15AM

I interrupted them, expecting them to at least believe me a bit, which they did. I left the room and slipped into the kitchen. I looked on top of the cupboard and grabbed a bottle of Jack, pouring myself a shot so I could calm down. I groaned, it burned a lot more going down than usual. I was loathing myself a bit, then Y/N walked in.

“Really, you’re drinking?”

I blinked and looked at them. “Yes, and?”

Y/N looked disappointed in me, 100%, but did I care, no. I lit a cigarette and looked at my hands, I was still shaking and I was scared, pretty scared. 

“I thought you were sober, like fully sober.”

When did I ever say that, I can’t recall.

“No..?”

They shrugged and stole the bottle from me, I almost took it back and smashed it on their head but I stopped myself, quickly. I didn’t wanna have to clean it all up and shit y’know. We were just hanging out then all of a sudden, there was this loud, LOUD, bang, then the room went cold, so cold. I inhaled and somehow sputtered out.

“I-I… what was that.”

They looked at me and shrugged, obviously clueless. Y/N basically had zero idea of what was going on, I wasn’t oblivious or anything but I at least had an idea of what was happening. Y/N’s POV: October 26th, 1989, 3:45AM I looked at the clock on the oven, it had been around an hour since this all started. I wasn’t really scared anymore, I was genuinely just confused, really confused, I looked around and then looked out the window. There was someone on our back porch, looking like it wanted inside, I pointed outside then all of a sudden, glass SHATTERED. The person was inside and obviously hungry for blood.

“Dave… DAVE.”

Dave spun around and looked at the unexpected intruder, grabbing the bottle out of my hand and smashing it over its head. Glass flew everywhere as I ducked away, just watching them. They fought, then the person punched Dave in the face, over, and over, and over until Dave gave up and passed out, I was freaked out, watching the person run out of the house.

“I-I… Dave?”

I went over to him and shook his body, scared shitless. Was he okay? Who was this unknown person? Why did they go for Dave and not me? I didn’t know, at all. I shook him more, then he eventually woke up. Dave’s POV: October 26th, 1989, 4:20AM I was breathing heavily, feeling something warm run down my throat, assuming it was blood, I sat up and leaned against the cabinets.

“Holy fuck..”

I panted out, shaking a shit ton as Y/N sat next to me.

“You okay?”

They said as they handed me a kitchen towel for my nose, I held it against my nose and mumbled.

“I guess so…”

[heartsoulrocknroll]

Piano Man Ranked

This was so hard for me, because I love every song on this album. These rankings are based primarily on the album versions, but if I was unsure, the position was ultimately determined by my favorite live version. I firmly believe that you can't truly appreciate how great the songs on this album are without hearing them played live by the 1976-1982 Billy Joel band.

1) The Ballad of Billy the Kid

I am so obsessed with this song. I think it's one of the greatest songs Billy has ever written, from the excellent instrumentation and arrangement to the fanastic storytelling lyrics. I love the album recording. The clip-clop of the horse hooves. The campfire harmonica. But the back and forth between the band (especially when the strings come in) and those ICONIC piano riffs does something to my brain. I freak out every time I hear it even though I've heard it repeatedly for 12 years. And the piano work throughout the entire song is just phenomenal. The live versions obviously don't have the strings, but the post-1975 live versions with the core Billy Joel band have a whole different energy that make the strings unnecessary. I have to mention the 1976 University of Connecticut live performance of this song, because that particular combination of Billy's vocals, Billy's kickass piano playing, and the band's pure energy literally makes me the audibly-yellin', hand-wavin', object-throwin' kind of insane.

2) Somewhere Along the Line

This song reminds me a bit of James Taylor in parts, but then those big backing vocals and piano riffs come in and take the song in another direction. The melody is great, the lyrics are some of the best on the album, and Billy just goes nuts on the piano, especially on the break after the third verse, during the fourth verse, and on the break that closes the song. I love the album recording, but this is another song that really comes to life in the live setting with the slightly higher tempo, the more prominent guitar riffs, Liberty on the drums, and Billy singing and playing like the world-class singer and piano player that he is.

3) Worse Comes to Worst

This song rocks so hard and blends so many musical styles. The signature guitar riff is super funky. The pedal steel guitar makes another appearance for more country undertones. The background vocals provide a gospel flavor, while the steel drums come in later on for a bit of a Caribbean feel. But even still, this remains distinctly a rock 'n' roll song. The album version is great for the aforementioned reasons, but the live versions rock so much harder. I love the 1977 CW Post live version more than life itself. I know I never shut up about it, but my god, Liberty's drumming adds so much drive to these early songs, and Billy sings the hell out of this song live.

4) Travelin' Prayer

I love absolutely everything about this song. The brushes on the drums, the bass, the opening piano, the banjo, the fiddle, the lyrics, Billy's vocal, the psychotic tempo. This is just a fantastic country/bluegrass song that takes what is great about those genres and improves it with the incorporation of Billy's brilliant piano breaks, especially the piano solo during the first instrumental break, which just rocks. This song doesn't have as strong of a country feel without the banjo and fiddle, but the live performances with Liberty's energetic drums, Richie's sax additions, Doug's driving bass, and Billy's piano improvs are incredible in an entirely different way.

5) Ain't No Crime

The soulful, gospelly vibes of this song really do it for me. I LOVE the use of the organ, and the piano riffs slap so hard it ain't funny. This is another song that needs to be heard live to be truly appreciated, with Liberty on the drums and Richie adding some sax. Billy goes crazy on the piano and does such a fantastic, soulful vocal on this song live.

6) Captain Jack

This is just an epic song. Billy's piano parts in the intro and the verses are beautifully done. The combination of Billy's organ and that legendary guitar riff in the chorus is so dramatic and really gives the song its epic feel. The lyrics are a great commentary on how people can have everything and still be overcome by the aimlessness and hopelessness of life. I like the album version, but this is another song that really takes on a whole new life in the live setting with Billy improvising on the piano and singing so incredibly well, while Liberty adds the dramatic opening cymbals and the ridiculous driving drum transitions from the third and fourth verses into the third and fourth choruses. 😭😭

7) Piano Man

No matter how many times I hear this song, I will never stop loving it. It's popular for a reason: it's great. That iconic opening piano riff gets me every time. The harmonica parts are great. The piano break after the third verse rocks on the album, and rocks even harder live. These are some of the best lyrics on the album. They are excellent, immersive, storytelling lyrics with a great rhyme scheme.

8) If I Only Had the Words (To Tell You)

This is a gorgeous melody with a distinctly beautiful opening piano riff, more beautiful piano work throughout the song, and some nice strings toward the end. This is also one of those songs that really makes me go, "Damn, that guy can sing." I am a freak about singing, and there is a live version of this (supposedly from Carnegie Hall in 1974) in which Billy gives a vocal performance that brings me to tears if I focus on it too hard. Billy may not like the sound of his own voice, but I'd give anything to sing like that.

9) You're My Home

This is a great, country-sounding song. It's one of those classic, beautiful Billy Joel melodies. The album version isn't very piano-heavy, but there are a few nice piano bits in there. And the instrumentation is great nonethless, from the finger picking on the acoustic guitar to the pedal steel guitar. Billy's vocal here is really beautiful as well.

10) Stop in Nevada

This is a beautiful song with a great melody and a great build from the quiet piano and pedal steel in the verses to the big, full choruses with the backing choir and the strings

[humblemediagenius]

It's au guys ask time >:) one 📻 for that song meme, and skin, break and future for the not-so-nice oc meme >:3

GENE YOU ARE MAKING ME WRITE SO MUCH BUT IT’S WORTH IT BECAUSE I AM INSANE OVER THESE TWO YAY

Song: mememe by 100 Gecs

I know I already sent you a different 100 gecs song that was on their playlist but I’m sending you another one because I am insane. Besides the fact that this is absolutely the type of music Luna listens to, I just think the lyrics fit these two PERFECTLY. Like, I interpreted the song to be about a breakup from a unattentive / uncaring partner and I don’t think that applies to Zeke and Luna’s relationship, but rather applies to their relationship with their ex-boss and with their hosts. It’s a big plot point that the two of them figure out who they both really are, and the traits that make them who they are as their own individuals is blatantly looked over by their ex-boss (and the canon counterparts to their hosts, to an extent). So it feels like the type of message they’d want to be heard, that they feel like their experiences aren’t important…….. ough. I even did a drawing to this song, I think it fits them that well. also yeah just 100 gecs is au guys core music IDK what else to say on that

ok now for the other ask game:

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them -a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

WELL. The AU guys take that one phrase “the human skin is hard to live in” to the next level because they are literally living inside human bodies but aren’t human themselves. Over time I think both of them have kind of accepted their fate, but they don’t exactly like it overall. Luna has somewhat grown to appreciate their host and appearance, but Zeke has actually gotten less comfortable with it. He hates the color red because of that jacket he had to wear for so long. They don’t HATE the skin they’re in but they don’t LOVE it either. But then again, it’s all they’ve ever known, so even if they DID get freed from their hosts they probably would base their appearances on their hosts (especially after they start dressing and acting like themselves).

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

God, this is hard to think about because the AU guys are generally lighthearted and not getting into situations like this. I know for sure Zeke could (and honestly probably will at some point) reach his own breaking point because he’s repressed everything he hates about being in a host and acting like someone else. He’s jealous of Luna and how they’re so confident about everything they do, and he is so SICK of that jacket. So after months, maybe even over a year of holding it all in he finally snaps and breaks down. Zeke is typically very monotone, calm, collected— so you may or may not be surprised to hear that he is an emotional WRECK. I mean, ugly sobbing, shaking, barely able to coherently speak. He holds a lot in, not just his thoughts but emotions in general. Luna is obviously the only person to see him like this, and also the only one to help him get in a better place.

Luna, on the other hand, I don’t feel would realistically get to their lowest. They’re very flexible. I think the only thing that’d ever cause them to feel that way if Zeke, like, died or something (and vice versa for Zeke as well), but that obviously isn’t happening.

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

Well the worst possible future that could have happened to them would have been if a certain ex-boss of theirs continued to mind control them and not let them break away; if it weren’t for them, they probably would have taken over Rackethill by now. In the story they’ve basically already avoided this fate, but they’re very much aware that 1) it very much could have happened, 2) it ALMOST really did happen and 3) they are never ever going back there again. I feel like Zeke especially panics about the fact it almost happened because for many months before Luna got their host, he was being mind controlled and he did not like it at all.

[rise-my-angel]

I'm going insane rn. I made the mistake of visiting the asoiaf subreddit, I want to bleach my eyes. Why are secret Targ theories everywhere? Why does everyone need to be a Targaryen? Why are some people so convinced that Mance Rayder is actuay Rhaegar? That secret Targ theory, in particular, infuriates me, mainly because not everything has to be about the damn Targaryens, they interpret every single plotline to ever exist in this series to have something to do with the Targs and none of them are spared, appadently- But also because Mance Rayder is much, much more interesting, as a character, than Rhaegar can ever dream of being.

Like, I consider this an insult to the time and effort grrm spent to write about Mance and develop him into a well fleshed out character. He is a brute, tough guy and leader of the Free Folk but he's also a trickster type bard who loves his bawdy songs, He's a Night's Watchman and a Wildling but also neither, Qhorin Halfhand was his enemy but also a dear friend once- All of these show an active effort by the author to create a complex character, to not leave him as a generic cardboard cutout but flesh him out into an actual, believably realistic person, and I find it kinda rude to look at all that effort and artistic intention, and just go 'Actually, no, it's this other guy instead.'

Why take an already interesting character and make him a secret Targ? Is nobody in this universe allowed to be interesting and important without having some sort of connection to that fucking house?

Also, just because they both play music doesn't mean that they're literally the same fucking person, and I can't believe that's a sentence this fandom has made me have to say. I never would have thought I'd have to explain how two people having the same hobby doesn't make them the same people, to whom I assume are grown adults. I'm starting to think these people live in a planet where only a single person is allowed to specialise in a particular field, and the guy who does music is called 'Greg Musicman' or something, and that's what they base these theories off of.

I HATE the "everyone is a secret targ" theories. It's so uncreative and pointless. It's as dumb to me as the "everyone is secretly a faceless man" theory. The whole reason why there are so few Targaryeans left is because the house basically cannibalized itself, leaving how few there are today. There are no secret targs besides Jon, because Jon being a secret Targ is actually extremely relevant to multiple characters major plotlines (Ned for example).

Everyone else being a secret targ is so stupid. HOW ON EARTH WOULD RHAEGAR DISGUISE HIMSELF AS MANCE RAYDER. MANCE LOOKS NOTHING LIKE HIM.

From the wiki for reference:

"Mance is a slender man and of middling height, but broader in the chest and shoulders and taller than Rattleshirt. His long brown hair has gone mostly to gray, and laughter lines appear at the corners of his mouth. Mance has a sharp face with shrewd brown eyes."

"The beautiful Rhaegar had deep purple or indigo colored eyes. He had long, elegant fingers, and was taller than his younger brother, Viserys would be in his adulthood. Rhaegar's hair was similar to the silver-blond of Viserys and their sister Daenerys."

Yeah, I can see how people could possibly mix the two up. Like, Mance is such an interesting character and by making him secretly Rhaegar it just diminishes his interesting backstory. It feels literally like a cheap ploy for theorists to have Rhaegar actually alive to interact with his secret son.

They have this for everyone though. Tyrion is secretly a Targaryean. Melisandre is secretly a Targaryean. Samwell Tarly is a secret Targaryean. Craster is a secret Targaryean. I'VE DEAD ASS HEARD PEOPLE THEORIZE LYANNA STARK WAS A SECRET TARGARYEAN.

It's exhausting these people are so fucking obsessed with this house that everyone has to connect back to it when it literally makes no sense for a single one they;ve ever come up with and a reveal of them being a secret Targaryean would add up to literally no relevance. The entire point of Jons parentage is because he is the one person whose reveal would be impactful. It would effect multiple characters and stories, thats the point. Its so unthinkable to happen, and yet it is the truth Ned Stark hid for Jons entire life to protect him.

To have this be casual for anyone else, means that Ned risked jack shit to protect his son because apparently its easy to hide secret Targaryean lineage.

The brain rot amongst Targ stans is honestly baffling. They are just delusional at this point it feels like. Like, I'm sorry to say this, but...

The Targaryeans aren't actually that interesting in the first place.

[theghostpinesmusic]

I've done all of these posts about Phish jams lately, and somehow I haven't yet written about a version of "Down With Disease"? What?!

"Disease" has been one of the band's most consistent and consistently varied jam vehicles since the mid-90s. The composed part of the song itself is a pretty straight-ahead rock and roll number (by Phish's standards, at least) but for whatever reason seems to almost always inspire the band to take a journey into deep improvisational territory. The only version I can think of off hand that doesn't do this (though I'm sure there are some more) is the version from 8/7/09, but that was the first live Phish song I ever heard, opening their '09 stand at the Gorge, and I was having so much fun just being there and taking everything in that to this day it's still one of my favorite versions, despite the lack of jamming.

I'm really glad the band semi-belatedly posted this version from their recent Sphere run, because in a run that was characterized by both monster jams and monster Sphere visuals (if you aren't yet convinced, maybe the literally billions of words I've already written about it will convince you) this was hands-down my favorite jam. The visuals are great, though I think you could easily make the case that a lot of the other songs throughout the run had even better visuals. But I'm not here to talk about those, I'm here to talk about the music. And this music is, as the guy in front of me at every Phish show I've ever been to would say, "fucking sick, bro."

It all starts off in the lot

It all starts off, insanely enough, out of a fantastic version of "Oblivion," which opened 4/21's second set. The weird loops and ambient noise you hear at the beginning of the video is a transition out of the end of "Oblivion" and into the...weird loops and ambient noise that normally characterize the beginning of "Disease." When Mike starts his bass riff, he's starting the song proper.

Trey then proceeds to forget the very first lyric of the song, which is hysterical. He was probably looking at the screen behind him as it is doing some wild Gates of Heaven/Hell thing right away.

Anyway, up through 4:10 the song is played basically as usual (though nobody told Fishman that, apparently, because he's playing for his life from the very beginning), and then we move into a Trey solo based on the song's chorus chords. There's some great Trey/Mike interplay during this section. Also the visuals start to diversify a bit. They looked a bit too much like a huge insect face to me in my altered state during the livestream, which my brain did not like. YMMV.

At 6:05 or so, Trey moves from playing a solo to playing a series of cascading notes a few times in a row, which pushes the whole band's intensity level up a bit. Page in particular starts driving the jam a bit more noticeably here, leading to a section around 7:00 or so when he, Trey, and Mike all land on the same drone-ing idea together for a few seconds. From here the jam slowly dissolves away from the "Disease" chords into something more ethereal.

By 7:30, Fishman has moved from a rock and roll beat to more of a backbeat, and everyone else is layering reverb-y melodies over top of each other. I'm a huge sucker for this kind of stuff, especially when it happens while Fishman is keeping the momentum going. Page adds a siren at 8:30, which the first of many signs that this is going to be the jam that ends up on the top of my list for this run.

This wonderful synth-y madness continues for a bit, with the visuals changing (maybe?) in response to the spaciness of the music.

At about 10:05, Trey locks onto this sinister-sounding tone and starts repeating a descending riff that takes us firmly into Evil Phish territory. The combo of the lights and music here probably would have killed me if I'd been there in person.

By 11:00, Page and Trey are bouncing ideas back and forth, but to be honest I'm not clear on who's doing what. I choose to be blissfully ignorant!

At 11:34, there's a subtle but important change from Trey that sends the jam turning in a more uplifting/major key direction. They've already built the foundation to just absolutely crush this more blissful space into atoms, but instead they take the patient route. Trey's playing here, for some reason, reminds me of Round Room. Maybe it's the guitar tone?

The obvious highlight through this section is Trey's light, fluttery playing, but I can't say enough about Mike's bass tone, which is lurking slightly behind the bliss jamming like the villain from an Atari 2600 game, chomping away at all your pellets and turning you into a ghost...or something. It's been a long time since I've played anything on an Atari 2600.

This particular jam rolls on for a few more minutes and then Fishman switches up the beat at 15:26, but Trey stops playing, and for a second it seems like they might wrap things up/move to a new song here...but then at 15:40, Trey jumps back in with some super-funky chording and the rest of the band picks up where they left off. Pretty quickly, there's a move into blues territory at 16:16, and a great section where everyone else is basically just playing fairly pedestrian stuff while Fishman is absolutely losing his goddamn mind.

We segue out of that into a more full-band blues improvisation, which starts to build momentum almost immediately. There's a few bits from Page here that seem like almost-but-not-quite "Bathtub Gin" teases, then at 18:00 we reach a big, high-energy peak that has everyone firing on all cylinders. Again, the visuals appear to adjust according to this, but I'm not sure if that's something that can actually happen technologically. This peak lasts for a few minutes, but, to my ears at least, it never really loses momentum and always, somehow, seems to be building in intensity, so it doesn't feel like overkill or overindulgence: Trey somehow keeps finding higher and higher frets on his guitar, and I'm here for it.

Things finally start winding back down a bit at 21:30, and if the band went back into the outro to "Disease" here and called it a day, this would still be one of the best jams of the run. Instead, we still have twelve minutes left.

The next section of the jam leans a bit on Trey's guitar loops, and in some places (I assume unintentionally) they overlap initially in ways that remind me of "Crosseyed and Painless." Then things get a little grungier and the loops go away as the band heads into a groove that has a bit of a "Manteca" feel. In fact, I remember waiting with bated breath for a "Crab in my shoemouth!" lyric when watching this live. Alas!

What we get instead is a pretty fantastic blues-rock jam. I love the part where Fishman essentially drops out at 24:30 and comes back with a John Bonham-like tree-trunks-for-sticks beat immediately.

There's a bit of reconfiguring happening at 25:10, and what emerges is something a little goofier, with Page on either electric piano or synth and Trey adding some loops. Tonally, this section is pretty cool in a weird way: a mix of the grungy darkness of Trey's guitar and an almost circus-like feel from what Mike and Page are playing.

Things start to go almost-ambient at 27:00, feeling almost like a return to or reprise of the space that started around the 11:00 mark. The combination of Mike's mantra-like playing and Trey's use of his octave shifter here is just ridiculously cool. It's one of the many, many pieces of music from this run that I feel like I could listen to on loop for hours.

It feels like things get a little too weird for their own good, though, at 28:30, so the band is like "Why not get even weirder?!" There's another quick transition and suddenly we're getting both Stones-esque rock and roll and "Flight of the Bumblebee" at the same time. What is happening? Presumably someone knows, but it's not me.

The insect mask is back, and I'm trying to avert my eyes so He doesn't take over my mind with His eldritch powers.

BUT I CAN'T LOOK AWAY!

This jam space sounds like "Llama" if Led Zeppelin had written it. Holy crap. There's something for everyone in this "Disease" jam, unless you're me, in which case all of it is for you.

The totally bonkers visuals are just the icing on the cake. And so is Fishman's suddenly loud, violent, and commanding drumming.

The whole thing builds to another peak here, but one made of chaos and madness rather than bliss and happiness, and then...and THEN at 32:17 the band moves back into whatever key "Disease" is in. If you're a huge nerd like me you know what's coming next, it's just a question of how long they're going to make us wait for it.

Not long.

At 32:44, Trey flawlessly jumps back into the "Disease" riff twenty-eight minutes after he left it and the crowd loses it so loudly you can hear it on the video.

These guys could have just played the Sphere, thrown up some cool videos during the songs, and called it a day. But instead, forty years into their tenure as a band, they're there throwing down probably the best "Down With Disease" I've ever heard them play.

What in the absolute fu

[rarepairnation]

i feel like i am going to die. thank you for this it is lighting my brain on fire. this height difference.....girl..........like father like son / like mother-in-law like daughter-in-law, i suppose. only slightly related but finduilas meeting eowyn is just a concept that rotates at low power in my brain. no coherent sentences are present but. its just really good.

finduilas and denethor having music time in their chambers before bed.....i need to go lie face down in the lake. i like to think it was something denethor never neglected, even if he had to then depart back to his duties. perhaps she was more predisposed to singing when she was younger and felt that her illness took that from her, and denethor kind of helped her reclaim it to some extent.

it also makes me think of maglor haunting the shores of middle earth in this context and well i feel a little crazy. do you think sometimes in dol amroth people swear that their lost princess wanders the high towers at night, singing with the voice of a bird. do you think denethor himself had ever heard her sing, and even if he had not, if sometimes he could almost see her walking along the prow, turned to the east, singing with a broken voice. (idk why i'm giving so much bird imagery in connection to her. her and earendil and elwing are maybe getting to me). hmm. sorry about this one. after her death music becomes a rare thing in the house of the steward - faramir plays the harp, perhaps, after his mother's example, but boromir is more inclined to the sorts of songs sung in taverns, and from the steward's rooms there is never song. but he asks pippin to sing for him, when he takes him into his service. perhaps he thinks that at this end of days, he wants this reminder of her.

i love love the idea of their attraction to one another being primarily based on seeing their own strangeness in one another + also just their sheer competence in their respective political domains. not to be ace about it but that taking precedence over physical attraction even when that is still an aspect that is present (or perhaps it being the way in which their relationship started. in a demisexual way even). yeah. also i Will make everything about the insane poly situation that has taken over my brain. denethor 🤝 finduilas 🤝 thorongil: being absolutely bizarrely strange and subsequently really into each other because of it. Yeah...

hhhmmgngngn this is one barrier they can never quite cross...dying again. obviously i knew she was forever drawn back to the sea but i think before it was kind of abstract in my head but the fact that they are literally forever looking both in opposite directions (her to the west towards the sea, him to the east towards mordor) AND that she would yearn for a place where he could never follow...........which neither of them can ever attain but that perhaps she could come closer to.....kind of giving elf/mortal ship lite and i am. aughe. over it. do you think perhaps there is some resentment in denethor, not towards her but towards the whole elven valinor concept - i could see it going either in the direction of 'if anyone deserved that sanctuary it was her' or 'the land that should have been his promised land is now a curse and he can never take her there and so she yearns for something beyond both their reach'

no thoughts head empty for this one regent finduilas only. even in an informal/private way...the image of her on the steward's chair lives permanently in my head but in the case of a gondor that would not accept that i still think. just him deferring to her in private upon the basis of the parts of the political sphere where he knows he is flawed. and she is the only one he would take that from too. (and...after she's gone.....him having hardly anyone he would trust to receive criticism from and it resulting in him kind of. excising his own perception of his own flaws). it's just such an excellent aspect of their relationship that is easy to overlook bc her gentleness is put more forwards in the text.

ack. ACK! is it because he reminds her of arwen or because he sees her fate written before him as if in the very stone under her feet or a little bit of both or. man. that is literally so........thorongil is a guy who WILL kind of unintentionally freak out both of them isn't he. just the concept that to thorongil she is almost already gone and to denethor she is the realest person he has ever had because he cannot bear anything else. what do you even do if you're her. i don't know.

i'm still turning over my reply to your reply to my post re: your finduilas ask (normal sentences) in my head but while that's marinating i am just dropping by to say that its really funny how i said i hadn't thought enough about here and then she refused to vacate my mind for a week straight after that. self fulfilling prophecy. if you have any spare finduilas thoughts (involving denethor or thorongil or both or neither im not picky) laying around i am all ears.

Hmm, more Finduilas thoughts…

She’s a Dúnedain woman, so she’s tall, though you wouldn’t know it standing next to Denethor or Thorongil, maybe about 5'10" to their 6’6”+.

Her singing voice isn’t the best, her illness has damaged her vocal cords, but she can play the harp and several other instruments while Denethor sings, usually in Sindarin or Andunaic.

Growing up she loved the tale of Earendil and Elwing, and it was from this (and her love of the sea) that she took the name Faramir, after one of Earendil’s companions.

She was physically attracted to Denethor, as much as a Dúnedan can be. He was tall, raven haired and beautiful. But they were drawn together far more by their strangeness however, a shared recognition that they are alike because of how unalike they were to all others.

Finduilas is very elvish, she looks west more towards Valinor than Denethor’s visions of Númenor, the sea offers escape rather than destruction. This is one barrier they can never quite cross.

She’s very good with people, PR, image and diplomacy. She’s not afraid to tell Denethor when he has screwed up and needs to have more tact.

She’s quite fond of Thorongil, and like Denethor sees how useful he could be for Gondor, but she always gets the feeling that he looks at her as if she was a ghost.

[nationalharryleague]

One Day

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Drunk!Harry Fluff!

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi all! This is some drunk boyfriend harry fluff that I just love sm. It’s based off of “One Day” by Catie Turner (I highly recommend listening to it!!) More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think in my ask! Thank you so much for reading! 

***

Harry was the life of the party when he wanted to be. He knew how to let loose, with a tequila on the rocks in one hand and a beer in the other, ready to party until he (literally) dropped. He always ended up on some sort of elevated surface like a teenage girl, usually a kitchen island or an absurdly expensive coffee table, singing along to whatever music was playing, magically knowing every word to whatever came over the speakers. Sometimes he would get lost in the winding corridors of the massive mansions his friends lived in, taking a wrong turn in his enhibrated state and ending up somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be. There was also one time he jumped off a (thankfully low) roof into the swimming pool below.

But usually, he was calm, cool, and collected; gently sipping on a single drink he would nurse for most of the night. The two of you liked to sit and watch during these parties, his hand settling securely on your waist, keeping you close to him and away from the chaos that unfolded before you. You would curl up on a couch somewhere and just watch it all play out like it was an observational study, often giving commentary and ranking people and their drunk dancing out of 10.

“I feel like we're the mean girls in the corner of the cafeteria who just sit and silently judge everyone around them,” you would giggle, nuzzling yourself further into his side.

“That’s because we are the mean girls in the corner judging everyone around them, sweetheart” he would reply, in a slightly buzzed drawl.

But tonight was not one of those nights. And Harry had ended up standing on top of the dining room table scream-singing ABBA at the top of his lungs.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic and messy performance. His limbs flailed freely as he wiggled his hips along to the beat of Dancing Queen, singing into a small statue of a naked woman he had picked up off an end table that you assumed to be very, very expensive, like it was a microphone. He wore a pair of high rise denim flares that swayed along with his movements to the music and his white “Women are Smarter'' shirt was now stuck to his body with sweat, just see through enough for his butterfly to make an appearance.

He only came down after a green malaise began to settle over his features, skin slightly clammy and a bit pale. You extended a hand, helping his loopy body down off the table and letting him settle into your side for support once he was on solid ground again. “Let’s head to the bathroom, H,” you said gently, trying to settle the panic that was beginning to crawl into his eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

Once he got to the beautifully large and extravagant bathroom, he crawled into a small, or as small as the large man could make himself, ball and rested his hot clammy cheeks against the cool marble of the floor. “May have overdone it,” he grumbled from his spot on the floor, holding on for dear life as you were sure the room was spinning for him.

“Ya think?” you teased, immediately feeling a pang of guilt when you were met with a pathetically needy face from him in return. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” You carefully dug through the cabinets, knowing there had to be washcloths somewhere in the lavish room, and once you found one you dampened it with cold water. Settling down on the tile next to him, you pulled him and his sweaty curls on to your lap, wiping the layer of sweat delicately from his skin and then resting the cold cloth on his forehead.

You two stayed in this position for a while, carefully rubbing his back in an effort to sooth the large man and trying to ignore the loud music that was still shaking the house around you. He looked small like this, no longer your giant protector, but like a younger version of himself who just needed someone to take care of him. You were happy to be that person, as he always was for you.

This was the first time you had ever seen him like this. He always managed to know his limits, but tonight he just went off the deep end. He had been working like a dog, constantly in and out of the studio, frustrated that none of the songs he was writing were up to his astronomically high standards for himself. It wasn’t too shocking that he was trying to escape that stress.

Gradually, as he laid on the floor and you held him close, the color came back into his cheeks and he stopped holding onto your legs like the room was about to take flight. When you sat him up against the wall, he was still a bit wobbly, but no longer looked like he was about to unload his stomach contents all over the room.

“How are you feeling now, H?” you asked softly, scanning his face for discomfort or distress as you dabbed the washcloth over his skin.

“’m okay,” he hiccuped back, “jus’ needed a cuddle.” He got exceptionally British when he got this drunk, his accent coming out in a barely distinguishable garble of tall vowels and dropped consonants, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

His eyes fluttered open and closed without rhythm as he looked at you, his light green eyes glazed over with a glassy shine, and his mouth hung open slightly, like he didn’t have the coordination to close it. His pink cheeks were flushed and his skin had a sweaty sheen. His head had rolled off too one side and rested on his shoulder, like his neck had given up on holding his head up, and his arms fell heavy at his sides.

You should have been at least slightly annoyed with him for acting like a college kid, drinking until he made himself sick. His behavior and subsequent need for you to take care of him should have gotten under your skin and caused a bit of anger to bubble up into your chest. But it didn’t. You were just taking care of your man.

“Do you still feel nauseous?”

“‘m a-ok, babay” he said, making himself giggle with his rhyme. His lips lazily curled up into a smile and he dragged a lazy arm up to give the “OK” symbol with his uncoordinated fingers, before the heavy limb dropped back down to the tile beneath him.

“Okay, funny man,” you began sarcastically, planning on instructing to drink the glass of water you had retrieved on your way up to the bathroom, when he cut you off.

“I am pretty funny, aren’t I?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back the loud belly laugh that fell past your lips. He took the glass from you and began to sip, a proud smirk never leaving his lips as he looked at you.

“You were a comedian in a past life.”

“I agree.”

You two were quiet for a bit, Harry drinking something other than tequila for the first time the entire night, and you just admiring him in silence. You let your hand crawl into his, interlocking your fingers together before bringing it up to your lips and pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles. It wasn’t long before his glass of water was finished and he crawled back into your arms, his back pressing to your chest with your arms wrapped securely around his shoulders. Your fingers ran through his still damp curls, initially just to push them up and away from his forehead and eyes, but continued when you heard the little happy mewls coming from him.

“Ya take such good care of me,” he said sloppily with a gentle tone, breaking through the bubble of silence you two had created together.

“I always will.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his salty forehead and settled back onto the hard wall behind you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hadn’t been together for long, with saying the “L” word still being pretty new, and still slightly foreign, to both of you. But you meant it when you said it, you loved him, and your body always filled with a blushing warmth when he said he loved you too.

You had met through work when you interviewed him for the magazine you worked at. From the moment you saw those dimples in real life, you were weak in the knees and enamored with him. You hadn’t been trying to flirt, it just happened. And before he left the office, you had a date planned for that Friday. That was 6 months ago now and they had been some of the happiest of your life.

“Will you marry me?”

The question left his lips in his absurdly difficult to understand drawl and it took you a moment to process what he said, but when you did your heart stopped.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry him, because you did, but not now.

It was too soon. There was still too much for you to do together, too much still to learn about him, and too much for him to learn about you. You hadn’t even had a serious fight yet; you didn’t know how he dealt with conflict or how you would react to it. You didn’t live together; you didn’t know how your living habits would match up or if they would drive each other insane. You didn’t know how you would deal with him touring being away for so long.

There was just too much you didn't know.

“I will someday.” You spoke gently, trying hard not to hurt his currently fragile feelings. You were now holding his face tenderly, like if you held him steady and close, you could lessen the blow.

“So, no?” he looked up at you with his big puppy dog eyes, feeling guilt punch you in the gut.

“For now. Everything is just going so well right now, we don’t have to mess with it.”

“Jus’ wanna be with you forever,” he said softly and your heart began to melt. He was such a soft person, who felt everything so deeply and with so much emotion. He was a sap, and you loved him for it. You pulled him closer to your chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“And you will be,” you breathed. “Forever will still be there down the line.”

“Why not now?” His lips held an adorable pout and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing a kiss to them. He tasted awful, like tequila and sweat, but the kiss was loving and sweet as you tried to pour all your love for him into it.

“Because we still have to grow,” you watched the end of his mouth tick up, sure to make some sort of smartass comment about you both being grown already. “We have to grow together,” you finished.

“I guess so,” he mused softly.

“I promise that I will say ‘yes’ when we are ready someday.”

“Someday,” he repeated softly, feeling the words on his own lips. “I’m going to keep asking, ya know?” he smirked up at you, his smile and joking tone signalling that you hadn’t broken his heart, just bruised his ego a bit.

“That’s perfectly okay,” you sighed, a contagious smile finding its way to your own lips. “I’m going to keep saying ‘no’ until we’re ready, ya know?” you teased, using his own words against him.

“One day, I’ll make an honest woman outta ya when you let me.”

“One day.”

Thank you reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!! 

[amairainherlilbubble]

Minnie-Gukkie💜❤️

Confession time

I don't know if anyone would really read this, but I just want to take this out of my chest. But if you are not jikook supporter then please please don't read further.

This blog initially was supposed to be a jikook blog. I wanted to talk about only jikook and wanted to share my perspective. I really really wanted to write about jikook somewhere. But I was hesitant because neither I know them personally nor do they know my existence. So I didn't want to cross my limit. Aaaggghh.....after yesterday's VMinKook Vlive, I had this strange urge to pour my heart out here.

Ok. Like I have always said I'm a huge admirer of Jimin. I admire this guy a lot. And you being a Jimin fan and not noticing his unconditional love and attention towards BTS maknae is like NOT TODAY. We all know, Jimin cares, supports and loves all his members but when it comes to Jungkook, it's just a level-up and he is very vocal about it since the debut days. And yes, everyone has soft corner for the maknae but what Jimin has got for Jungkook is so so so consistent and persistent.

I know few people say Jimin is clingy, he's a natural flirt, he's Libra, he's king of fanservice, etc etc when it comes to Jikook interactions. I don't really think Jimin is flirt and I don't think whatever he does with Jungkook is mere fanservice. I firmly believe, their bond and relationship is beyond all this.

Here in this post, I'm not going to speak about Jungkook at all. All I want to speak is about Jimin. I don't know if they are dating or not and I seriously don't want to bring up that topic. But I think Jimin really really loves Jungkook the most. Why? Because it's very obvious.

That boy, wake him up in the midnight and ask him anything, literally anything, he'll still manage to bring Jungkook's name. Just imagine, how much close of relationship he shares with Jungkook that he manages to relate everything with him. I sometimes feel, he wants everyone to know how much time they both spend with each other.

Coming to yesterday's vlive which made me think a lot of things.

Call me delulu, call me insane, call me crazy woman, I don't give shit but this is what I feel.

Jimin went to V's room because he knew his soulmate would be feeling lonely. And we all know, V had asked for Jungkook. Well I don't really read too much into this because it would eventually become vminkook live even if V had asked for Jimin instead Jungkook based on the past events. (If you know, you know *wink*)

The series of events made me think that Jimin desperately wants to say something to us, ARMY, shippers. Else why would he even say those things in the name of TMI?? Like seriously, Jimin, you could have just said, you have been working out everyday since the day you came to America, why to drag Jungkook in that TMI. But no, he just wanted to say everyone including jikookers, taekookers, and other shippers that he has been working out with JUNGKOOK. And the next TMI that he said out of no where which was not even necessary because he had already answered for his TMI saying he had no jetlag then why tell V and everyone that Jungkook checks on him 3 times a day, comes to his room out of no where. Jungkook crashing others room is not a new thing because he has done it many times and his hyungs have complained about it given the context. But yesterday it was not really necessary, still he had this urge to share with everyone. He also wanted people to know that they shared chicken together after concert.

Jimin and Jungkook are two people yet they seem like one whole unit.

I don't know if I was reading too much or what but when V said "I heard Jungkook-shi that you are working on Christmas song", (don't know if it was true or not) to which Jungkook said, "yes, but how did you know about that?", And Jimin was like why am I the last person to know?? That was hilarious and he wasn't acting or going with flow. That seemed genuine. Even when, V said jungkook and he are working on a Christmas song, he was like I don't know what are these people talking about and that look he gave to jungkook was funny and cute 😂. For a matter of fact, I know they maybe not working on anything together, if that was so then they would have not revealed that just like that.

I just don't know anymore, everytime I try to think, yes this is it, there is nothing more than friendship between these two, they come up with something which makes me go like what the hell??

Jungkook is definitely Jimin's home. If not couple, atleast they are each other diaries, you know that one person/friend, we would want to share everything literally every minute thing at the end of the day. Jimin is way tooooo much comfortable with Jungkook and I can sense. Hell with haters because I don't care.

Thanks for reading💜

[bbbrianjones]

hi !!!!! may i know ur top 5 new wave bands … or 80s bands for that matter <3 its for science

will, you could have anything from me. my oxygen. my address. my social security number. ANYTHING!! i’m not even gonna rank these because imagine trying to rank favourite 80s bands... cute <3

duran duran

i’m literally stating the obvious here but i LOVE duran duran!! i wish i could say that i got into them because i saw pass their pop star images but i’m lying!! they’re all so insanely hot!! but i do think people can’t see pass that image of them on yachts with gorgeous models, to me they are some of the best musicians of the eighties, especially john taylor! i am being so based here but he really does carry all of their best songs with his funky bass lines. nick also does a lot of the work too but looking at youtube comments they always comment on john’s bass playing and it warms my heart like yes!!! that’s my sunshine!!!! play that funky music white boy!!!

the go-go's

my wives!!! my children!!! i think they honestly did so much for music in the eighties, they really did!! i’m not even kidding, can you believe they were they first (and at this point only) all female band who play and write their own music to have a hit album ??? as has this happened! i know their music is pretty shallow but that is the point! they make me so happy and that is the point of their music!! plus, as stated before, they are all extremely talented! also belinda carlisle 💞💓💞💓💗💖💘💝💓💗 💖 💘 💝💗💞💓💞💓💗💖💘💝💖💘💝💞💓💗💖💘💝 

walls of voodoo

would they even as new wave?? don’t care! anyway wall of voodoo have just such a distinctive sound to them, especially considering what type of music was popular at the time,, aka all the bands above. they have what i would say is a western sound, it’s like country but make it more synthy. when i listen to their music, i just feel like it would fit perfectly in a movie with red desert with one lonely cactus and people dress with cowboys hats and cowboy boots. i think they’re so cool and i do kinda wish people would listen to them... pls <3 i need someone to talk to about this band!! also stan ridgeway is such a cutie!

the motels

this is one of those bands where you hear one of their songs and you just think ‘where have they been my entire life??’ i think martha davies’ one is truely one of a kind! she makes me feel every single emotion and even some that i have never even known before. i often think of the song total control when i try to justify why she is wonderful, all the vulnerability and powerful and passion that she puts into the song is breathtaking. i first heard the song live and at first was a bit ‘ugh i don’t know this band i don’t want this’ and then she started singing and was quickly ‘ok yeh i love this’

the waitresses

one of those bands where you think “who?” and then you list the two songs songs they ever did you everyone’s like ‘oh i love them!’ one of neil finn’s favourite band and you know that man kinda has taste <3 a part of their appeal to me is their personification of a song, let’s just say ‘i know what boys like’ the way the song is performed by the band is the exact why i would expect a song to sound with the title ‘i know what boys like’. snooty, proud, conceited and just down right annoying! it’s one of the most ear worming song ever to exist and i love giving it shit but i can’t help but love it, to give it credit none of the lyrics rhyme and i can still know the song back to front. 

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 5 “Drunken Fart Contest” [Episode List] After one of their usual nights out with their friends, Dave and another bud, Adam, end up being really drunk. Luckily, it was Tim’s turn to be the designated driver, so he’s perfectly able to drive. The two drunk friends, however, are really, really gassy…

Drunken Fart Contest

2:00 a.m. The party was getting out of control, as predicted. Almost everyone was completely drunk or confused. I heard some plates breaking in the kitchen: good thing this is not my house. Whose birthday was again? The music is still loud, playing through some speakers carefully placed in strategic locations of the room as some dizzy guests danced –or, more precisely, staggered to the rhythm of it.

Whatever was going to happen next, I didn’t really care: it was my turn to drive, so I was literally the only sane guy at the party. My pals asked me to take them out of there around 1:30 a.m., but since we were having fun, we lost the track of time. I eventually found both Dave -you know him, and Adam, another friend of mine, around my age as well. They probably had alcohol instead of blood in their veins by far.

“You’re such a cock-blocker!” Adam hissed at me, since I –according to him- ruined every chance with a girl he was hitting on. Too bad this girl passed out 15 minutes ago and my tipsy friend didn’t seem to notice at all. Oh well, it’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it.

Dave was definitely more collaborative: he had this silly smile drawn on his face, probably because he made out with some hot girl in the other room. His sweat-soaked shirt was partly unbuttoned too, so maybe he was heading second base without even noticing.

“Ok guys, here we go…”

We eventually reached my car, parked just outside the loud house. Some fellow guests were lying on the grass in the front-yard, either laughing or smoking: they were fine, some of them even said ‘hi’ to me as I walked past them. I opened the rear door of the car on and forced Adam to go inside, who muttered something about how I ruined everything with the woman of his dreams. He then tripped and fell in the car, lying on his stomach, looking more like a corpse.

“He’s dead…” Dave simply commented. Not very helpful.

Adam’s place was our first stop. Our houses weren’t really far away from each other, but I tend to drive slowly, especially during weekend nights, for obvious reasons. Adam, still lying on his belly, probably passed out. I checked on him via the rear-view mirror, unwillingly triggering my gay senses: all I could see was his grey skinny jeans sagging, exposing his black underwear, the latter hugging his surprisingly bubbly butt.

I ignored that vision and turned to Dave, my co-pilot and the guy in charge for the music. He was fine, better than my other friend, that’s for sure. We chatted a bit, as he noticed that I was tired, keeping me focused on the street. After a while, however, he chuckled and lowered the volume of the radio, almost setting it to mute.

“I think you’ll like this song more, listen…” he said, with his well-known smirk.

I knew what was going to happen. I was actually surprised that it was only happening now, considering that alcohol always made Dave really gassy. He spread his legs a bit, visibly pushing one out and glanced at me one last time before the “thunder” almost made me swerve.

The sound was loud, even though it was partially muffled by the (lucky) car seat. It was very dry-sounding and manly, almost like a long, enormous morning fart.

“Aw… come on…” Adam muttered, as Dave’s flatulence literally woke him up.

My gassy friend laughed as he leaned a bit. He was basically indirectly farting in my face, not even caring about the presence of our friend. I had to keep my eyes on the road, trying not to admire my friend’s denim-covered ass. The fart lasted around 14 seconds, one of his longest blasts I believe. It was followed by his friendly laughter as he gently patted my shoulder, as if he every time wanted to make sure that he was ok with me, my weird fetish and that I had nothing to worry about; and I always appreciate his gentle mannerisms, despite the rudeness of his manly rips.

The smell hit us all soon, especially because the windows were locked. Bad choice. It was already too disgusting even for me, a nose-killing stench mixed with the already awful aroma from our sweat-soaked shirts.

“You’re disgusting, Dave!” my other friend said from the back seat, trying not to laugh.

“Thanks, Ady! Glad you appreciated!”

Dave leaned a bit again and ripped another loud toot, lasting only a couple of seconds this time. Truly a proud farter, indeed. Adam clapped his hands sarcastically, laughing a bit.

“Sure… really impressive…” he said, still lying on his stomach.

A moment silence, then another fart begun, but it was not from Dave. Maybe it was the dizziness, the alcohol, but Adam started to rip one too. I checked again on him via the rear-mirror and I could see his bubbly butt erupting this extremely loud, high-pitched fart. It started kinda weak, only to become louder and manlier as seconds passed. Dave laughed, knowing that I was living both in a nightmare and in a beautiful dream at the same time, visibly amused by my weird situation. As the blast continued, Adam slowly wiggled his butt left and right, the tone of the fart changing a bit; he laughed as his 12-seconds rip started to fade into silence.

Now it was Dave the one clapping his hands. “Bravo!” he commented, as we all bursted into laughter. I didn’t know if it was because of my boner or the farts, but the car’s temperature seemed to raise a lot so I had no choice but to lower the car windows, also because the smell was getting too unbearable (yes, even for me). I felt the colder wind from outside brushing through my hair, my nostrils still sensing Dave and Adam’s farts.

Seconds passed, but the smell was, strangely enough, still there, all around my face. As I heard my friends’ laughing almost to tears, I understood why; I couldn’t hear it at first because of the sounds of the traffic, but they both started ripping one big fart at the same time the moment I rolled down the window; once I noticed it, I heard the sound too: it was insane, out of this world; two giant farts being ripped at unison. Dave pointed his index finger up as the farts continued, as if he was some kind of orchestra leader, and looked at me with a smirk, knowing that I was enjoying every moment of that gassy jam session.

I didn’t even know how much time passed this time, maybe 20 seconds. They laughed again, finally ending their unusual fart concert and complimented each other. I wish the trip lasted longer. I was ridiculously aroused. Was this a fart-contest? Because I’m pretty sure they’re both won.

Eventually, we arrived to Adam’s place; he was feeling better as he got up on his own, adjusted his hair a bit and patted his hands on our shoulders. “Thanks for the lift, cock-blocker!” he said, punching my shoulder in a friendly manner.

We made sure he got into his house safely and then headed to Dave’s. Only a couple of minutes later, I parked in front of his garage, both listening to some more music from the radio before ending the night-out. We kept chatting about the party, the host’s poor taste in music, but it was getting really late and the we didn’t want to wake up the entire neighbourhood.

“Alright, Tim. See ya tomorrow I guess…”

We bro-fisted, more than aware of how cheesy that was, and he opened the door.

“Oh, by the way…” again that smirk. “I am the fart master…”

He got out of the vehicle and closed the door behind him. Dave then squeezed his butt in loose jeans, almost sagging, through the car window a bit, and proceeded to rip yet another loud fart, this time just for me. I didn’t even time to react as I felt the warm gas engulfing the entire car, the smell becoming once again unbearable; it sounded like a loud chainsaw and lasted about 8 seconds.

My friend was just as surprised as me by the blast’s loudness and quickly got his butt out of my car, as some of the neighbours’ dogs started barking, hilariously annoyed by Dave’s fart.

“Oh my…” we both muttered, laughing.

I immediately started the car as my gassy friend rushed inside the house (this time he didn’t forget his house-keys). As I drove back to my house, I couldn’t help but smile the whole time: my best friends are gassy idiots; and that’s perfect. But Dave… well, he’s the best of all, farts or not. Whether the case, I really should plan a road-trip with him some day. And just thinking about that made my dick aroused again…

End of Episode 5

[achliegh]

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 9:

FMRN

Would You Go With Me

My Stress

Today was the day, Leo was moving to Gryffindor with two sexy hockey players who actually want him. He hasn’t stopped smiling for the last 26 hours. He was currently in the shower while his boys packed a ‘sexy time’ bag in his closet. Casually bopping to the beat of FMRN as he rinsed off his body. Stepping out of the shower he starts drying off. Legs, stomach, chest, face and everything else. Walking to the closet for the connecting door to the bathroom he finds Finn sitting on a suitcase and Logan trying to zip it shut. Shaking his head he walks over to this plane clothes and starts getting dressed, just a simple pair of jeans, t shirt, belt and baseball cap.

The music was still in the background as Logan jumps up and whoops with triumph. Skipping over to Leo he pulls him in for a rather aggressive, excited, kiss with Finn following with his own sweet and gentle one of his own.

“That bag is crazy full, just so you know.” Finn smiles and kisses Logan’s forehead, the shorter of them was still buzzing like he drank six energy drinks. They heard a bell being rung for breakfast and all sprint over each other to get downstairs.

Judy does not play when it comes to breakfast.

After a healthy morning breakfast of shrimp and grits, or cheese grits if you are Leo, everyone started packing up the vehicles. Leo gets car sick a lot of the time in smaller cars so he is driving them to the airport, ‘them’ meaning Clay and Reg… Finn and Logan got kicked out into Thomas and Noelle's car. Logan fought a little about it but Finn knew that Leo still needed his space. So convincing Logan to go with him by offering a bag of salt and vinegar pork rinds, was rather easy.

Finn has noticed how easy to fall Leo is, he just hopes that Leo doesn’t hesitate with them. Logan didn’t make a very good impression the first time they left. Ever since then Leo has been, understandably, cautious around them. It hurts a little but Finn only ever notices after he looks back on a situation. How Leo looks unsure or hesitates to touch them.

He figured them living together might help Leo open up to him. He just wants him to be happy and safe with them.

“Why am I so nervous…? I have been talking about these two for the entire summer. Shouldn’t I be more excited?” Leo opens the gate with an app on his phone before setting it down in the cupholder. Reg and Clay share a look.

Leo has taken to getting drunk to open up about his fears, Reg and Clay have both become therapists for a sad Leo who isn’t thinking right. It usually stems from Logan's words he used to kiss Leo goodbye for the first time.

‘You are just… a guy who we had a fling’

‘You don’t mean anything to us Leo’

‘Stop being a fucking child Leo!’

Those words haunt Leo when he isn’t distracted in some way. It has gotten better ever since their trip to Gryffindor the first time, but they knew it still bothered him.

“Maybe it's because you are living somewhere away from Peanut for so long.” Clay smiles at him when their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“I did try and convince Logan to let him come with, but it was a no. I still can’t believe he is afraid of horses.” Leo snorts and visibly relaxes.

“You know you can always stay with me if you ever need anything, right?” Reg looks at him and gives him a soft smile. Leo squeezes his bicep in thanks. They continue the rest of the drive by Clay annoying Regulus until Reg climbs into the backseat to give him a couple of smacks with a bag of sunflower seeds.

A plane ride and a sleepy car ride later, Leo was carrying most of his bag into Finn’s apartment. He set everything down in the second bedroom and looked around. This was the smallest bedroom he has ever been in… But he was hoping he’d be spending most of his time in the master bedroom anyway. Biting his lip at the thought he is jolted out of his thoughts by two idiots trying to squeeze through the room door at the same time.

“I think we are stuck…”

“Non, I can get us out!” Logan pushes the bag that was in between then onto the floor and they both go toppling over. Leo couldn’t help that laugh that flew out of his mouth. He walks over to help them out just to be pulled into the pile on the ground. Right on top of his baseball bag.

“Oh fuck! Bat in my ribs!”

“You brought a bat!?” Logan is looking at him like he's insane but helps him stand after pushing Finn off himself. “How are you going to use that on the ice?”

“Lo… he plays baseball, not hockey.” Logan rolls his eyes and just ‘blah blah blah’s behind Finn’s back. “Why did you bring it though? It’s going to be too cold to play.”

“Gryff has an indoor batting cage, I looked it up before we left. Shouldn’t you know everything here by now?” Leo starts laying the bags out in a line and opening them up to start organizing the room. Clothes are first.

“Lo doesn’t get out much.” He gets a swift smack to the chest with a pair of long socks from said hermit. Rubbing his chest he smiles. “I have no excuse. Where do you want these?” Holding up the third pair of boots he has found while rummaging in Leo’s bags he holds them up.

“By the wall please.”

“So polite. Logan, you could learn something from him.” Logan makes a sound of offense and was going to say something back in return but Leo turns on his speaker and starts playing some country yeehaw shit, it's growing on him and he won’t lie about it.

“I love this song.” Leo grabs Logan by the wrist and pulls him close, one hand on his waist and the other interlocking their fingers. Swaying to the beat he suddenly pulls away to grab Finn's hand and spins him into his chest while singing “If I gave you my hand, would you take it And make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, Finn. Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea? Let me know if you're really a dream. I love you so, so would you go with me?”

Swinging Finn around as Logan watched in awe Leo is pulling away from Finn and holding his hand out to Logan. Breathing slightly heavy just smiling his bright chipped smile with his wild blue eyes. Logan can’t help but take his hand and let himself be spun so his back is to Leo’s chest as he mumbles those same words into his shoulder. “If I gave you my hand, would you take it? And make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, Lo. Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea? Let me know if you're really a dream. I love you so, so would you go with me?”

Hours of dancing and actual unpacking later, Logan had to leave to watch the kids while Celeste and Dumo head to their eye appointments. Leo was sprawled out on the sofa, mostly asleep, when he felt a kiss on his temple and heard some mumbling.

“I’m going on a run, I’ll be back. Okay?” Nodding a couple seconds later after the question sunk in, Leo gives him a quick peck on the lips and buries himself back into the couch.

When he wakes up Finn still isn’t back, his own phone is dead, and it's cold. He sets his feet on the ground after sitting up and a shiver runs through his body. Wrapping his arms around himself he walks to his new room and pulls on his thickest socks, that just happen to have a hole that his big toes catches on. He also decides to change into his one pair of sweats, the Lions ones from the hockey game, and the sweatshirt he wore with them. Putting the hood up and pulling it tight so just his face isn't covered, tying a little bow he doesn’t care how he looks, he’s warmish now.

Wandering into the kitchen and plugging his phone into an outlet in the island, he texts the boys asking what they want to eat, turning on the oven would feel nice. While he's waiting for a response he decided to look around. He walks into the living room where he was just napping to look at all the pictures Finn has of his team, family, friends and him and Logan.

Smiling he picks up a picture frame with Finn on some guy's back, Leo thinks his name is Kasey if he remembers properly. They are in a fountain but only Kasey is wet. He sets it down and picks up a picture that is not in a frame but just laying on the table. Odd. It is of Finn and Logan, they look younger and Logan has a blonde streak in his hair. They are smiling wider than Leo has ever seen them smile. Finn has his arm around Logan’s shoulder and Logan has his arm around Finn’s waist.

Their cheeks are pressed together. It’s sweet. Leo turns the picture over and reads what is written on the back.

‘The year I found the one.’

Leo smiles and sets the picture back down, walking over the wall that has pictures literally taped to it. He makes a mental note to buy some frames. He is taking in all the smiles of people he didn’t know, a man looking like Finn and Finn actually headbutting in a picture makes him laugh.

He hears his phone ding with a text notification, he makes his way over and notices the corner of a picture sticking out from under the couch. He pauses in his path and bends down to pick it up. It’s folded, but it’s a picture of Finn and Logan at the bonfire that Leo took them too. Leo unfolds the side of the picture and realises… there is a crease over his own face.

Ouch.

He folds the crease again and sees how it completely cuts him out of the picture. Leo actually has this same picture in the back of his phone case. Suddenly that tiny drop of doubt becomes flooding water filling up his head. Putting the picture down on the counter after he walks back over to the phone.

He opens his messages to the boys needing steak for dinner… maybe… Did they forget? He sighs and feels the doubt flooding from his brain to his heart. Shaky hands start some music to hopefully distract himself from the smell and texture of meat. Clicking his phone off he starts working on dinner.

Finn and Logan walk in the apartment together, laughing and still sweaty from the run that Logan joined Finn half way through. Taking off their shoes and setting Logan’s bag by the door, a heavenly smell fingers their nose holes.

They share a look of confusion for a moment when they realize the smell is actually steak… They thought Leo would have gotten the joke but maybe not. Maybe the ‘lol’ and ‘lmao definitely’ weren’t obvious enough. They make their way to the kitchen and hear the music and the sizzle of a pan.

They turn the corner to see Leo, looking rather sad. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks slightly green, he is watching a small steak cook in a pan with no emotion in those normally challenging eyes. His hair looks like he has ran his hands through it and gripped it so it is standing wildly on his head. His hood is tied but not on his head. He is slightly shivering from either it being cold or something else.

Finn was the first to approach him. Resting his hand gently on Leo’s as they hold the spatula with a death grip, he takes the tool away and tosses it towards the sink and having no clue where it landed. Logan has taken it upon himself to turn off the stove and move the pan off the heat.

“Leo?”

“Are you using me?” Leo just blurts out what he is thinking and automatically regrets it from the look of hurt on Finn’s face and the look of anger on Logan’s.

“Let's talk about this while we clean these.” Finn holds up Leo’s hand to inspect the tiny knife cuts he accidently got from chopping onions. Being pulled towards the bathroom, Leo is told to sit on the counter. He does. Logan takes the peroxide from Finn and wets a couple of cotton balls with it.

Scrunching his nose as Logan dabs his small nicks he looks up at Finn who is holding two boxes of bandages, one box is Bob the Builder theme and the other is Hello Kitty. Smiling Leo nods towards the Hello Kitty ones.

“What makes you think we are using you?” Leo zones out for a second, thinking about the song that is still playing in the kitchen and how they need to turn the music off. “Leo.” He remembers that he was being asked a question and clears his throat.

“I don’t know, It’s just that you guys were already together before I came into your relationship. I just feel like maybe I’m just here to piss people off or as some… I dunno fetish maybe. I know it hasn’t been super long but I thought that maybe you would have one or two pictures of me. And I saw the folded one where it’s folded over me…” He is avoiding looking at Logan at all costs.

“I can’t speak for Logan,” Finn cups his cheek and makes him look at him. “But I really really like you, and I’m definitely with you, for you.” Smiling at him Leo lets himself be kissed and melts into it. Pulling away they both look towards Logan, who seems to be lost for words.

“I can’t believe you would think of us like that!” Finn gives him a warning look and Logan takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I just- I’m not good at this type of stuff. I’m really bad at expressing my feelings and emotions, usually I show them in other ways.” He takes Leo's hand and plays with his fingers. “I’m sorry I just snapped a second ago, I’m used to Finn speaking for the both of us… but I’m realizing that makes us ‘one’ in this relationship when obviously there are two of us that really want you.” Leo smiled a little and lifted Logan's hand to his lips giving it a few kisses.

“I really like you too, Lo.” he smiles the tiniest smile and turns to look at Finn. “I like you too.”

Logan and Finn lean in to kiss Leo’s cheeks at the same time. Smiling, Leo lets himself receive the affection without worrying if it's real.

He can worry when he is alone.

[infinitegalahad]

WIFE

Summary: You and Dick, after years of indefinite separation and depression, have finally reunited. Dick can’t wait to start a family with you. You love Dick, but you soon realize that you cannot bear him a son, a daughter, or a child.

Word Count: 10.9k (i’m being generous)

Warnings: Infertility, period typical sexism, Loneliness, based off of a mitski song what did you expect, here comes the angst train *sad choo choo*

Notes: Female reader. and title (literally) taken from Wife By Mitski, which I rec listening too for the extra painful experience. So I’m back from the dead...ish. I wanna apologize for going AWOL for two-three months, guess Iw anted to focus on other works and I feel like x readers are not my strong suit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna write them! I can’t promise anything, but I am planning some stories. Not as long or as painful as this is, of course!

I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. Not only because it’s Mitski, but infertility is something that hit’s close to home for me and my family. Was this story just me projecting my generational trauma into this fic? Never! Anyways, hopefully I won’t go AWOL again, atleast not for that long. It’s really hard to find the motivation to write, but I’ll do it. For you guys ;)

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition​ 

When Dick Winters had left for the war five years ago, he had made a promise to you the night before he was drafted. You were nineteen and naive, planned for college and he was twenty-seven, a post-graduate and Business Major. Your father was his professor and one of his best students. You would see Dick every Friday Night. As you would pick at the leftover peas on your plate, he would turn to look at your father to talk about something business-related. His eyes, you could never tell if they were a light shade of blue or green, would meet yours. It would be for a brief second. Those brief seconds would make you drop your fork and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

You had a small crush on Dick Winter’s.

It took you a few weeks to catch onto his eye color. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, reflecting a mint color. The taper candles would always lighten his eyes up. The reason you finally found out this eye color was because each dinner, you’d catch Dick staring at you. You were naturally oblivious to it, keeping your head down as your father talked a business deal. But whenever he mentioned Dick’s name, you would look up, see Dick’s dilated mint pupils looking right into your eyes before he swiftly turned his head to your father, acting like he was listening to every little word he was saying.

Dick had become a family friend. Instead of dinners once a week, he would come by your house more frequently in the summer months. The summer you had met Dick, there was a three-month-long heatwave. From what you understood, Dick had been doing an internship with your father along with extra studies, extracurriculars, and even more. It sounded like a lot for a young man. He was over three times a week, always in your father’s studies or the porch, drinking lemonade as he and your father discussed business. You’d sit on top of the porch, lazily slumped in a chair in your floral dirndl, reading And Both Were Young as you watched Dick Winters, in shorts and a tight white shirt with his strawberry blonde hair a little messy. Every time he spoke, your heart would skip a beat.

“Two jobs?” You cried, skipping ahead of him in your flats that you had slipped on in a rush, the heels hanging out of the back. “And an internship? How do you do it all?”

Dick looked down at your tiner figure, his lips curving into a subtle smile at your question. Whenever he smiled, his cheeks would wrinkle. It was a small detail you caught into about Dick that you adored. “I don’t go to parties a lot. Not worth the time that I’ve got. I work these jobs so I can get through school and support my family.”  

“That’s very admirable, Dick. Not a lot of guys my age would even consider that.” You remarked with a compliment. Dick walked beside you, hands behind your back with a straight back. His gaze lingered in you as he scanned your figure. Now that Dick was around more often, you always made sure to wear your best outfits. You wouldn’t have considered yourself very vain, but with Dick, something had changed. You started wearing the pretty pastel dresses your mother approved off, fine pearls, expensive cologne, and even the short rompers that your mother didn’t approve of. When wearing makeup, you felt like a woman more than a girl, which is what you wanted Dick to see you as.

“Thank you, y/n.” The strawberry blonde politely thanked with a curt nod. The two of you had a little routine now. While your mother would make dinner and your father would smoke a cigar in the back with the dogs, you’d take Dick into your backyard and down a little cobblestone trail to a hidden lake. You liked to go there to read to escape, and Dick needed a small break from working in the burning heat. So it was idle. “Do you have plans now that you’ve graduated?”

“Yes. I’m starting classes at Franklin and Marshall since they’ve allowed women. My mother prefers I stay home and learn how to be a lady instead of reading,” You explained with a sigh. The only woman in a class full for men. Times were changing, and nothing was going to stop you from working. “She cares more about her grandchildren then her daughter’s desires.”

“Well, it is your choice? Not your mother or father’s. As long as you were happy, then they should be happy for you. I think you’ll like it,” Dick kindly reassured, “You’re a very nice young lady, y/n. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

The two of you arrived at the lake. The sun was setting over the sky as it shined on the lake. There was an orange and pink hue in the sky. Dick and you stood besides each other. The strawberry blonde shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling a small breeze in the night. The air got colder in the nights, which felt like a refreshing treat after a long day of work and unbearable heat. The sun made his strawberry blonde hair and skin glow like he was some kind of god.

You admired Dick as he stood there, biting your lip and hands playing with the belt fabric on your skirt.

“Dick?” You managed to choke, your voice cracking.

He opened one eye and looked at you, worried. “Is everything okay, y/n?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Dick looked bewildered. It took him a second to process the question. His expression was that of a high school student stumped on an equation in math class. He hadn’t been outside much, maybe the heat was getting to him. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

“Can you please kiss me?” You reiterated, biting your lip in vexation. “I haven’t met a man like you, Dick. None of the boys my mother is setting me up with are like. They aren’t as intelligent, hardworking, cordial. When I tell these boys I want to read and live my life, they put me down-call me insane and ill. But you don’t do those things. You just stand there and listen to me. I may not make sense since I am probably just some young immature girl who knows nothing about being a proper lady. You even give me kind words of advice. No other boy would do that. Only a man would do such a thing.” You vented, letting your words spill out like vomit.

Dick wasn’t reacting at all. At Least it wasn’t obvious. He turned his figure towards you, eyes glued as his lips puckered against each other’s. He seemed taken aback by your honesty since you were someone who was reserved, only speaking when necessary. That didn’t mean adding your opinion to one of your father’s at dinner. Dick wasn’t obvious to your “rebellious” nature. Your mother would always scold you for interrupting the men. Your father didn’t mind your info if, and so didn’t Dick. He was interested in your perspective, and would always ask for further intake since it was the gentlemen thing to do.

You looked at him and shook your head, turning to walk back. “Forget it,” You sighed as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his. Dick got a smell of your perfume, a lavender and vanilla, it was definitely expensive. He liked y/n’s armora, especially after a long day of being in a stuffy room full of whiskey and burning cigars. “You probably think I’m just a mad woman-“

Dick thought about his decision for a second. He had to think thinkly. When he made up his mind, he sped walk towards you. “Wait,” He called. He saw you turn around with your silky (y/h/c) (y/h/t) spring right behind you. He scrunched up a fist feeling a lump grow in his throat as he looked a few slow steps towards you.

“You’re not a mad woman. I think you’re wonderful to be around. I always enjoy our conversations and our midnight walks,” Dick commented. He was at a loss of words for the kiss. When you had asked, you sounded like you were begging, but hid it.

It took him a while to realize that the two’s of you had a fair amount in common. You both were soft spoken souls, friendly but quiet. You distanced yourself from large crowds and were usually confident in each other since you both had a trust. You know how eachother worked like nobody else did-a small, intimate detail that only the two of you would watch into.

“You’re also growing into a beautiful young woman each day. Being a lady doesn’t mean being all prim and proper, it means being mature, kind, and respectful to others. That’s what you are.” Dick was only a few steps away. You listened to every word he said, your hands restraining themselves from touching his chest. He could once again smell the cologne and see the moonlight shine on your eyes and hair-the gloss you wore sparkled as well.

“But I couldn’t kiss you. You’re father wouldn’t approve of it.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. Your hands met his chest. You were so caught up in the heat of it that you didn’t realize that your hands rested on Dick’s Ivory collared shirt. Dick, however, didn’t protest at all.

You gently scrunched the fabric, “He’s not here. Just one. Before my mom tries to marry me off. Just one kiss and I won’t ask for anything else of you, Dick.”

Dick put his bigger hands onto yours as his thumb finessed the small part of your soft, [y/s/c] skin in between your index and thumb. “I…”

You gave him those eyes. They were begging. One kiss from a real man and you would be content.

Dick let out a defeated sigh, “...will. Just one. For you.”

So he did. In the moonlight, Dick Winters held you close and became your first kiss. Your lips were like a sweet treat. It felt miraculous after a long day of work. It was meant to be quick, but he was obsessed with your cushion lips and sweet lip gloss. His hands firmly rested on your lower back as his fingers scrunched with the material. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was yours, so he made sure to be gentle with you, even though he struggled. The whiff of your perfume, your shirt showing off your abdomen, the silliness of your hair. It was hard just for it to be one kiss.

Dick walked to you, your arm slung in the hole of his elbow. The two of you didn’t speak any words once you arrived back for dinner. It was a typical dinner. Your mother always made Salmon, rice, and peas on Saturdays, which occurred to be Dick’s favourite meal. Your mother raved about boys who could “tame” you, your father spoke of a new business deal in the news, you picked at the leftover peas, and Dick looked at your father with his weary king eyes, attempting to look interested in the conversation.

What kept him away in the dinner as your bare ankle, brushing against his trousers. It was a little bit distracting. Thank god he was a good pretender. It felt so wrong to be doing this, yet so right. You were unlike a lot of women Dick had met. You always caught his attention, watching you each day as you grow into a young, educated woman.

To tame your foot, Dick wrapped his ankle around yours, tenderly holding it down until the meal was over. After dinner was over, Dick wished your family a goodnight.. He gave your mother who adored him a kiss on the cheek, your father a firm handshake,  and you apart on the shoulder. His fingers struggled on your bare shoulder for what seemed like forever, brushing against the edge of your neck.

And with that, Dick was gone into the night. You headed to bed and changed, not washing your lips. You had a smile on your face as you twisted and turned. It was a one time occurance, but it felt like your fantasy had come to life.

But before you knew it, it would all be over. Dick would be back on Tuesday, and the two of you would act like nothing had ever happened.

But what Dick and you didn’t know is that it wouldn't be the first time of hushed kisses, lingering fingers, and limbs grazing passionately against each other.

————

The US had entered the war overseas. Most of the boys in your class were putting a pause on their lives to go fight in Africa, The Pacific, or Europe. Anybody who was over the age of eighteen was required to draft, so town was a shit show of crying mothers, lanky boys who could possibly never come home, and military trucks. You wanted to apply to be a combat nurse, but you weren’t of the age requirement.

Dick was going to war.

Ever since the night at the lake, you and Dick kept a closted relationship. He still came over in the Summers. Some days you wouldn’t even see him. But the small moments you had together, whether that be watching the twinkling stars on your walk on the lake hand in hand or cuddled reading books on a rainy day in your isolated greenhouse porch, mattered so much. If you had a bad day, he'd sit there and listen. He wouldn’t judge or give any advice. You didn’t know if he understood your struggles, but it made you happy to know that someone would sit there and listen. For comfort, he would take the book out of your hands and bookmark it, slide off your dangling flats, and pull you into his chest.

Dick’s language of romance wasn’t grand or romantic. Although reticent, his tranquil actions were nothing but idyllic. It was the little things that counted, whether it was fresh perennial’s picked from the field or even a hug. Your relationship didn’t have to be based on gifts and what others thought of you. It was the little things that counted.

The night before he was drafted, Dick invited your family over to his farm. It was at the edge of town and down a long dirt road, leading to a little white house and large red barn. It was picturesque, a cornfield and trees for miles on end. There was no constant chatter, horns blaring, or pressure-it was just quiet.

When your parents and Dick’s parents were distracted in conversation, Dick requested to take a walk with you. As much as you enjoyed talking to the bubbly Anne, you needed a small escape. You followed Dick to the back of his tiny kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he held the door open and let you walk ahead of him. The only noise that could be heard were the chirps of crickets and the wind gently blowing. You held a hand down on a dress your mother forced you to wear. It was a Jade summer frock, but Dick had complimented you. So it made the frock somewhat bearable.

The two of you walked in his backyard. You had no clue where he was leading you. You turned to Dick to ask. He didn’t respond with words. His fingers edged on your as you unruled your fingers, letting his hand sink into yours. His hands were worked, and you felt awful so you gently caressed the upper skin with your thumb.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you looked left and right, clinging onto the shawl that hung from your shoulders.

Dick looked down at you. He had a subtle smile on his lips as he looked down at you. All of the anxiety he had felt about being drafted, work, and the war faded away when he looked at you. Dick didn’t need to kiss you to know that you loved him; he could tell from the gentle look of your stunning (y/e/c) eyes. He watched you look into the never ending field ahead of you, the wind blowing loose strands of your updo. You wore a little bit of makeup. It was always subtle. He knew you hated wearing makeup and did you want to do it to look “presentable”. Dick didn’t care what you looked like, whether it be in overalls or a dress, he was infatuated with you.

He should have known from day one that y/n, the mischievous daughter of his Economics professor, had been yearning for him. He attempted to get lost in the papers and speeches of your father in his regal office with the shades closed and the whiff of smoke, earth paper, and Whiskey. Even when he was trapped in the office, you were still on his mind with your elegant perfume and book in hand.

“Here.” He announced, overlooking the cornfield. The colossal, green plants waved in the wind, in front of a hazy smoky dull sunset. You didn’t respond and simply looked into the sunset, slowly watching the shining sun set into the ground. “The cornfields, they remind me of you.”

A smirk curved on your gloss lips as you squeezed his bigger, worked hand with your tinier one. “Is that so?”

“They're wild. No matter the season, they are always growing. They're not the easiest plant to manage, there...unruly.” Dick explained, still a gentle smile on his tringale face.

“Are you comparing me to a bunch of crops?” You teased as your head landed on his shoulder. “Not a lot of women find that very romantic.”

Dick leaned his head on top of yours as he, your thighs brushing against each other.

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” You broke the silence.

Dick didn’t move and had an eerie stoic expression. He tightened his grip on your hand before looking down to let out a soft sigh.

The sun didn’t shine anymore, the corn had stopped moving in the wind, and the stars didn’t sprinkle. You felt your stomach drop as goose bumps appeared on your exposed arms and legs. You froze and looked down at the grass, seeing your feet nestled right next to Dick’s.

The possibility that this could be the last time you saw Dick, held him, read with him, and kissed him haunted you. As a child, you had made it official that love was off the table. But when the giant gentle with red hair and mint eyes waltzed into your kitchen on that fateful night, your world had been turned upside down. Trying to be logical, you could live if Dick died. He was far too old to marry you, and most likely showed no interest. You could've been just a pretty face for him to silently hold before acting like you never shared tender moments in the moonlight. If he died, you would move on, marry someone your mother chose out for you, and start a mundane life of cooking, folding laundry, and having children.

But emotionally, if Dick didn’t come back to Lancaster, something would be missing from your life. Something important.

“I can’t promise anything. You know that, sweetheart.” Dick cautioned you, whispering into your hair. At Least he was being honest-better than sugar coating a sensitive subject. He tried to make you look at him, but you refused. You were being stubborn, pushing away the emotions and trying to think logically. But in all honesty, it was catching up to you know. Tears stung at your eyes as your mouth quivered.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me, ” You sniffled, “I’m not an idiot. I prefer it if you be straightforward with me.” Dick looked at you with his thin eyebrows knit together and narrowed eyes. After sharing such a kind moment, he most likely wouldn't wanna break news that would tear your heart to pieces.

You preferred if he’d just spit out the words and get it over with. Make it easier for both of you to handle.

He moved on his hands to your cheek to wipe the incoming tears, but you refused. You turned your head and swiped the tears with your shaky palm, red lipstick and mascara staining your skin.

You scoffed in frustration, “Just say you want me to break up with me. It’s for the better. I’ll go to school, you go to war. We act like nothing ever happened. For the greater good. It was fun while it lasted..But I...nevermind.” You looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Dick. One glance and the next thing you would know, tears would be streaming down your face as you ran into the night.

Dick turned and followed after you as your footsteps increased with a few mumbled sniffles. “That’s not what I wanted to say-”

A pained sob escaped your mouth as you walked forward, a red face with tears streaming down your cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, for the better of us. It’s better to use your mind over your heart and not worry about some young, naive girl who had a crush on her father’s best student!”

“Y/n...”

You continued to walk forward and ignore Dick’s pleas, but your stomping slowed down.

“Y/n...”

Dick was creeping up behind your. Your speed walking slowly turned into slow, sluggish steps. Tears streamed down your face as your hands slung at your sides. Dick was now right behind you, watching you as you sniffled. You slowly turned your head to look at him with mascara running down your face.

“Oh, Sweetheart..” Dick softly sighed. Your whole body turned around as you fell into his arms, letting out a loud sob. Small sniffles turned into wails as you cried into his chest, staining the ivory collared shirt. He stroked your hair as he ran reassuring circles on your back. He wanted you to get all of those pestering emotions out. After a few minutes of sobbing and Dick comfortingly holding you close, he broke the silence.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” Dick cooed into your hair as he traced mindless figures into your lower back.

You looked up with your big (e/y/c) orbs, letting out a little sniffle. He had a soft smile on his face as he wiped a stray hair from your face, slowly tucking it behind your hair. “Then...why did you bring me here..?”

“This cornfield holds a special place in my heart. I come here a lot. It’s peaceful, but lonely.” Dick explained as he grabbed your hand, holding your tiny one in his own. He looked down at you, “After working with your father, I’d come home and run here. I’d stop midway to look at the wind and the way it moved the corn. It was so relaxing, so that’s why I brought you here.”

“To not feel lonely?”

“Yes. I felt alone, until I met you.” He admired, “I was surrounded by people, but I still felt alone. But when I spent time with you, I didn’t feel alone at all. It was a highlight to see you, even if it was sitting across from each other at a table or seeing you, laying on the porch. I looked at you and I got happy.”

“Dick, I…” You were speechless. His words wanted your heart, but his message baffled you. “Appreciate your kindness, but what do you mean?”

The gentle strawberry blonde held your hand. He didn’t hold it tight, but used both his hands to hold them up. He slowly backed up and lowered himself on one knee. From the books you had read, you knew what this way. Initiatively, you would’ve said no and ran away. But Dick had courted you with his gentle hold, reassuring words, and sheer presence.

“I couldn’t keep it any longer. I know there’s a chance that this will be the last time you see me for a while or at all. I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I..can’t hide it. I love you, y/n. I don’t care if you want to start school and make your own money, I don’t care if you wear pants, I don’t care what you do. I care about your happiness. I want you to live a long and happy life. You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. I understand you’re young, and you can turn this down if it’s too much. Dick announced as he pulled a velvet box from the back of his pants, he opened the box to reveal a golden Celtic band. You put a hand on your mouth in joyous disabelif. “I want to be with you, but only if you want to be with me. You’d never be alone...Will you marry me, y/n?”

“Dick, this is…” You chuckled in disbelief. One minute you were crying, now you were laughing. Dick in one hand held a beautiful ring, and the other hand your delicate hand. “Wonderful. But my parents...they…”

“I talked to your father. He said pick out a white dress you want.” Dick replied. “You’re mother cried. I thought she was upset, but she was beyond happy. She told me she knew you had an eye on me since I started coming over for dinner. They approved...but if you don’t want this, I understand. I just couldn’t hold it in, even if I don’t come ba-“

“Yes, Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Your words started low, but then turned to loud cheers. You squealed, nodding enthusiastically. “I will, Dick. I’ll marry you. I don’t care. If something does happen, I'll be happy knowing that I’m yours. Even if you don’t…” the three lettered words struggled to come out your mouth. It was such a rough word. Unable to bring yourself to say it, you chose to leave your pessimistic side for something more optimistic. “I won’t be alone, even if you’re in Europe, The Pacific, wherever. I’ll just know you’re here, in my heart and dreams.”

It turned out that this whole dinner was a setup by your family and the Winters. It just had to be Anne Winters that she found about your relationship with Winters. Being sixteen and sassy, she casually shrugged it off and stated that “Dick was a horrible liar”. It should have been obvious with Dick’s favourite meal, the fact that you were placed right next to time, Anne’s teasing, and your mother pestering for you to look presentable. It all made sense now.

But there was one ball in the air-the ceremony. Dick would be leaving for Toccoa the next day, the afternoon. Your parents wanted a big ceremony for the morning. The Winters didn’t care-they just wanted the two of you to be happy considering that Dick was going to be away for a long time or forever.

You and Dick had to come to an agreement. You announced at the end of dessert that you would wait to be married until Dick came back from the war.

Obviously, this caused a bit of uproar. But with Dick leaving tomorrow, they chose not to make a big deal of it. As long as you and Dick were happy, your families could be nothing but be happy for you. Even if it was a short amount of time.

After the storm that settled, you and Dick had left his house. You hopped in his truck and drove to the local chapel Dick had attended with his family every Sunday. In the middle of the night, the two of you eloped. He made sure to pull over and pick out a group of Perennials, all kinds of your favorites. You even stuffed some into your messy updo which had turned into a half updo.

After your quiet ceremony, the two of you drove back to your estate. There, the two of you spent your first, and poetically final, night together in your childhood bedroom; making love, cuddling, and cherishing every moment you shared with each other.

The variety of perennials’s Dick had picked out were placed into a blue and white ginger jar. It was meant to be a memory of Dick. He wouldn’t be there psychically, but spiritually, he would be right there.

Dick was surprised to learn that you weren’t a virgin. He was raised a Mennonite, waiting for marriage. You, being a curious young woman, had experimented. It was once, and an unpleasant experience. Before, you had felt indifferent about sex. It was something that women were meant to desire. You were told to be a virgin and wait for a man to take control of you. Hating those words, you chose to do the opposite. Nobody knew of your little secret, besides Dick-your husband.

Dick was nothing like the boy you had lost your virginity to. Unlike that boy, he was a man. Not because he was masculine and tough, but because he treated you like his equal. He never treated you any differently from your father. Dick had morals and integrity, he was compassionate, quiet but polite, open-minded, and used his brain and heart. That was what you defined a real man as.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He didn’t care about his feelings, he only cared about yours. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying yourself. You aided him in some areas, but the two of you were on a ride after a rocky start. Dick always asked how you were doing, if you wanted him to stop, go slower, or if you needed to break. He left sloppy kisses all over your body and had his hands wrapped around you like a young child with a bear. Dick didn’t let go of you once.

That night, the two of you held each other close as you chatted for hours on end. That was what you had looked forward to, not the sex. Sex was still a big piece in your marriage, but it wasn’t the most important. You looked forward to the long and mindless conversations the two of you had. Dick held you in his warm arms, toned and muscles from the workout’s he did year round. He would hold you close to his body as the two of you discussed life after the war.

It didn’t matter what the future held. If Dick was gone for one year, ten years, or forever. What mattered was the two of you had each other in your little moment of peace before all hell would break loose.

You and Dick had chatted the whole night away. The next thing you knew, you would go from the bedroom to the train station. It was a moment you dreaded, but it had to be done. Dick once again had a stoic expression. He kissed his mother, your mother, and sister, shook his father's and your father’s hand, and gave you a long sweet kiss on the lips. Dick struggled to pull away, but he knew it was for the best. Before climbing onto the train, he promised to write to you at every opportunity he got and tell you about Europe, the war, and anything he desired to tell you.

The next thing you knew, you were alone again.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your shoes and walked up the stairs. Your mother asked if you were okay, to which you silently nodded your head. Your father had noticed your unusual silence. He had offered to take you shopping, thinking that money would make you happy. All you did was politely decline and retreat to your bedroom.

Your room was stuck in time. The sheets were all over the floor and Dick’s tall figure that had been imprinted on the left side of your bed. The dress your mother forced you to wear laid on the floor, along with your flats and pearls.

The sun shined through the curtains as you crawled onto the side where Dick had laid. You closed your eyes and sunk into his pillow, holding onto the disappearing scent of your husband.

On Top of the books, you had been reading were the perennials; lavender, daylilies, and stonecrops. You looked up from the pillow, your nose buried into the pillow and a blanket loosely covering your legs.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel that so alone anymore.

———

One year turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into four. You kept the calendar’s from over the years in your room, neatly stored under your bed. You found it funny how time flew by. You could remember the first day of walking in your classroom and the day you walked off the podium with your diploma. The pretty perennials that Dick had given you from what seemed like a decade ago had died. They were withered and derived of the bright colors they once had, hanging on the side of the blue and white ginger jar. The perennials reminded you of yourself. Once you had been a fiery young girl, and now you were an exhausted graduate student who was bound to become a widow.

Around the time you had found work at Lancaster, BBC announced that the war was over in Europe. That should have phased you and made you jump up with glee, but in all reality, it didn’t. The optimistic side you once had was long gone, turning into a pessimistic bitterness. The war was over in Europe, but not in The Pacific. Dick still wouldn’t be coming home, and you learned to accept that.

Sure, he had sent you letters in the beginning. Lots of them. He would talk about his adventures in training, his dreadful drill sergeant, his friend who was a “one of those city folk”, and so many more things. He expressed his boyish pride in being a patriot for his country. His little letters used to make your day. But as the leaves fell from the trees and the years passed, his letters would slow down. The last one you had received in January, written in December. It was short and sweet. The letter rested  in your drawer. As the days passed on, a small part of you broke. You had been married for five years, yet you felt like you weren’t even married. No Dick kissing you, holding you in your arms, or comforting you in your darkest moments.

When the flowers had slowly withered, so did your hope.

But that all changed on a warm September day. Your mother had called you from your room, not specifying what was awaiting for you at the door. You grumbled and got up, taking off your glasses as you walked down the stairs, expecting to see another colleague trying to woo you.

You didn’t expect to see a tall man with a soft smile, strawberry hair, and a neat military uniform. Your husband-Dick Winters.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You dropped everything, running right into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he pulled you in close, his worked hands resting on your lower back and hair. He smelt amazing, and his uniform was soft. You missed his tender touch and soft words. It had been forever since you had seen him. In that moment, nothing mattered. No words needed to be spoken. In all honesty, you never wanted or needed pity from others. You just wanted someone-Dick-to be close. You thought of yourself as a coward, but all you wanted to feel was alright.

“Sweetheart, I missed you. I’m so sorry,” He apologized, stroking your embrace. His voice was stoic, as usual. It really was Dick. He was home and in your arms, at last.

“Don’t. Just stay. Please.” You softly cooed into his chest. No, you couldn’t let go now.

Dick let out a soft chuckle and stayed in the embrace. War was a strange beast. It stripped families of their children and caused mass discussion. Dick thought he wouldn’t come home and see his wife who had married the night before he was drafted. As the years had gone by, Dick began to regret his choice. What if he had left you a widow?

But that was the past. It was gone-nothing to waste tears on. In your extended embrace, the future didn’t matter, it wasn’t worth stressing. Dick and you lived in the present moment and made it beautiful.

-----------

Nothing had changed after Dick had come home. Life was still the same, except you weren’t as alone. Dick was still his stoic self. He was a doting husband. You expected him to struggle when he returned to civilian life. He wasn't used to homemade dinners and a bed much-the flashes of exploding limbs and artillery flashing through his eyes. Both you and Dick were independent. It wasn’t a bad thing. You could spend hours reading as he did a puzzle in another. On some days, the two of you would do activities together. You’d lay your head in his lap as he’d did his puzzle. On other days, Dick would be needier. Originally, he wasn’t vocal about it. It took you a while to catch onto it. He held your hand more in public, pulled you closer as you slept, and whenever he was in a mood-he’d come right to you and just give you a look. You knew the look all too well-and knew how to cure it. Dick would wrap his arms as you snuggled into his chest and talk about anything your minds came to. Sometimes you’d talk, but other times the two of you would close yours and fall asleep. Dick wouldn’t have any nightmares if held you close for comfort.

Without you, Dick didn’t know what he would do. How he could return to the simplicity of life.

Somehow, he returned. And every day he made sure to thank you for making him feel like a human and not a machine-whether that be through a gentle peck, a cuddle, or even a literal “thank you”. He loved you more than anything in the world.

----------

Shortly after Dick returned, the two of you moved out to New Jersey. His “city-boy” friend (his name was Lewis Nixon, but Dick called him Lew) had offered him a job at his parent’s nutrition company. So off the two of you drove from Lancaster to the suburbs of Haddonfield. Haddonfield and Lancester were virtually the same; small country bumpkin towns isolated from the big cities.

You and Dick had bought your first house (which was given by Nixon was a “late honeymoon gift). It was a small colonial house in a tiny suburb, pristine white with red doors. The decorations in the house were limited, a few photos of your and his family with elegant furniture gifted from your parents. It was a little big for your liking. It was a nice gift, but in Nixon’s words, it was for the “incoming armada of redheads”.

Babies. Children. Of your kin.

Dick had mentioned having children. When he was still adjusting, he’d hold you close as he talked about his plans for the future. Buy a farm in Pennsylvania, build his own business, and start a family of his own. He had told you that anywhere you would go, he would go. Anything you wanted, he wanted. He was about thirty two and you were close to turning twenty-five. It was expected at your age to have young children, but with no husband around and a job, it was difficult to settle down. You would gulp and smile, looking down as you held his hand.

Dick didn’t want to pressure you. He knew that were siginactiatly younger. Times were changing, you had a job and life of your own. He never wanted to interfere with it. When you would get insecure about not being the “ideal wife”, he’d reassure you that you were his wife and didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. Dick wasn’t a man who put fear into others to get what he wanted. He was a patient and gentle soul.

You had tried a few times here and there. As much as you tried to enjoy something that was pleasurable, it was painful. You hid it from Dick, but Dick wasn’t an idiot. Dick wanted you to enjoy it. You could his mint eyes, hungry yet soft, as he laid on top of you, both of your hands restricted as you did the deed.

You weren’t making any noises, looking to the side. Something was wrong, you knew it. But you couldn’t break it to Dick. How would he react?

Dick catched onto his. He pulled himself together and pulled out. You looked at him and gave him a stubble style as he scooted closer to you, his breath heavy and gelled hair a mess.

“Hey,” You smiled awkwardly, clenching at the sheets.

Dick looked at you, a smile curving as his lips as his hand caressed your cheek. “How is my wife doing?”

It was a private nickname. He called you it after the war, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes it was “my little wife”, which could be sweet or driven by lust. The little nickname made your heart skip a beat. You were proud to be his.

“Good. I’m tired,” You yawned as you held his hand close, playing with his big fingers.

Dick looked at your face as he admired your natural beauty, a pearly smile, your hair loose on the pillow, and your figure covered by a thin sheet. His hand moved from your cheek, your nape, and eventually your stomach. He drew slow, soft circles around your tummy.

“My little wife with our baby,” Dick remarked, his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Any girl would’ve fallen head over heels if a man had said that. You should have been happy, you wanted a family.

But how could you tell him?

There was a long silence between the two of you. All you did was look into his mint orbs, stroking his hair out of his face.

“I hope he, or she, looks like you. So they get their mother’s beauty.” Dick looked down at your stomach and planted a kiss.

You gulped, thinking of a response. A pretty white lie. “And there’s dad’s redhead and kindness. If you’re a little guy, I’ll tell you that it’s hard to find a man like your day.”

“And it’s hard to find a woman like your mother. She’s a firecracker,” Dick jabbed as he playfully ruffled his hair.

“Dick…” Your words were low as you held back a sob. You plastered a smile, it hurt to lie. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t even know if I have a baby there…”

“Well…” Dick laid his head on your stomach, gently finessing the skin under your breast. “If It was a girl, what would her name be?”

You hated the feeling-naming a baby that wasn’t in your stomach. Dick believed that you were pregnant, or at least he believed you were. In response, you bit your lips-looking like you were deep in thought.

“Margaret,” You announced, “Molly for short. After my grandmother, in her memory.”

Dick tilted his head up and nodded, “For your grandma,” He planted another kiss and rested his head once again, “A boy?”

“Lewis? You like that fellow a lot.”

Dick shook his head, “No. I can’t look at him and our child the same way.”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. An image of a little baby flashed between your eyes. Mint eyes, dimples, and soft red hair. You wished it would occur.

“I can’t think of a name. You?”

Dick was silent for a minute as he laid on your stomach, your fingers entangled in his locks.

“Thomas. His name could be Thomas,” Dick proposed.

“Why is that?” You questioned.

Dick let out a sigh before crawling up to you, pulling you into his arms,“He was a C.O, to replace Sobel. I didn’t know him for long since his plane was hit. He’s listed as missing in action...but,” He froze on the words, unable to say it. You looked up at him Dick, who looked to the side with guilt tugging at his heart. You planted a kiss on his chin.

“He was twenty-two years old, just married. He sent a letter out to his wife to tell her that he was coming home. She still believes he’s out there, lost in some forest, finding his way home..” Dick looked down at you. Just like Meehan, he had been freshly married, sending out a letter. While Dick had kept his short and sweet (he didn’t want to promise anything), Meehan was too big for his britches. He didn’t show his fear, confidence in the face of adversity.

“Okay, Thomas it is. I like that name” You expressed.

Dick saw your face glow up, and so did his. He smiled, nodding along. “Thomas and Margaret,” He looked at your stomach once more, running his hand across your flat stomach. “I like that too.”

You nuzzled into his chest as he planted little kisses on the nape of your neck, holding you close for warmth. The two of you remained there, the only noise being your breathing.

Pulling your head back, Dick moved his hands down to your lower back to pull you up, closer to his face. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Dick?” You looked into his mint eyes, the candle in the room glittering in his orbs.

Dick held your cheek as he admired your face, “I love you, my little wife.”

You looked down before looking at your husband, moving slowly up to his face.

“And I love you two, my big husband.”

Maybe time stopped when Dick’s lips had met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees went numb. You could only focus on how soft Dick felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses.

It wasn’t clear if you had dreamed this all, but the raw emotion in the way Dick’s fingers curled against yours. Dick kept his eyes open, sneaking a guilt peak every time you took a breath for air, just to make sure you weren’t a product of his imagination.

You weren’t sure if nature rooted for this moment, but it distracted you from everything. You just laid there with Dick, draped each other's arms as you sloppily kissed. Dick pulled you in once again, gently placing his lips onto yours until your knees had once again gone numb, overpowered by his. His other hand rested on your stomach as he murmured Margaret and Thomas, talking about how excellent of a mother you would be to your babies.

By the time you became aware of this, you froze, letting Dick kiss your body. You looked at the ceiling, hands in his hair as he decorated your skin.

It was like a car had run into you, throwing you down to the side-a rude awakening. As much as you denied it, it was creeping up on you.

There was no Thomas. There was no Magaret. There was never going to be a Thomas or Margaret.

Your stomach was flat, nothing moved. There was no life in your stomach ever. No matter how many times you tried, wished, prayed, there was only one conclusion.

There would never be a son or a daughter in your stomach-ever.

From that point on, life was slow. You woke up, gave Dick a kiss goodbye, worked from home, cooked dinner, read with Dick, fell asleep at an ungodly hour, and repeated the mundae routine everyday. With Dick being a general manager, he would work late hours. At some points, the only time you would see him is late at night when he’d crawl into bed giving you a kiss or early in the morning. Still, in his weary and stressed state, he’d always kiss your stomach every night and morning.

With your irregular cycles, constant negative tests, and pelvic pain becoming more evident in your marriage, you decided it was best to see your Doctor. As much as you didn’t want to know the possibility of what could be wrong, at least you would have an idea of what it was and how to make it better.

It turned out you couldn’t make your problem better. The doctor had a sympathetic look in your eyes as he listed off possibilities. You just sat there and looked at your stomach; your cold hands pressing against your stomach.

You were infertile.

There was never a Margaret growing in your stomach, nor was there a Thomas. There was nothing in your stomach.

How the hell were you going to tell your doting husband this?

---------

It was another Friday night in September. The leaves fell from the trees, the radio softly played in the back, it was peaceful in your little white house. Dick still hadn’t come home yet. You attempted to act like everything was normal as you put on a nice dress, pearls, and a fake pearly smile. It was all fine.

Nothing was fine.

You stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the haunting abyss. This feeling of dread and tightness became background noise as if it were traffic on an unseen road. There were times where you could handle it, and times where you could not. This was a day where you couldn’t handle it. Each day passed, and the more you repressed it-it hurt. It hurt even more than it was supposed to.

You were faced with a dead-end, a terrifying one, with thoughts of temptation and contemplation. You felt even lost in your own home and marriage, feeling helpless and scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen. In the partial society you lived in, a woman’s identity revolved around the ability to convenience. As a girl, you laughed it off, saying you’d do what you’d please. But you were no longer a fiery girl, but a broken and bitter woman. Bitter at the world for forcing the idea that women were baby machines. You, as you typically did, pushed it away.

Stuffed it into a closet, but it was now pouring out. All the baggage that you had repressed was right in front of you. You never felt like you belonged in the parthricaral society you lived in with their white picket fences and predictable lifestyles. That didn’t mean you didn’t want a family of your own. You had a husband, a job, a house, everything seemed perfect. But one thing was missing-a baby.

The older you had gotten, the more it affected you. Going to those parties for Dick’s job and seeing all the wives with their babies and fumbling toddlers. You didn’t feel anything towards them at first, but they eventually grew on you. Dick’s first few days home contained long conversations about what your lives would be after the way. You would chat with him for hours about it to distract from the nightmares that flooded his mind, holding his hand.

“A nice little farm near Lancaster, one or two kids, my own business, and the most important thing...you ” Dick would say, his words full of love. “My wonderful little wife, Margaret, Thomas, and me, on our farm. We’ll have each other.”

The kettle boiled in the water, the loud noise screeching in the kitchen. You dropped the knife and heard it clack onto the ground. All you did was stand there with wide eyes and shaky legs, looking down at the ground as your nails dug into the counter.

You couldn’t bear him children-you tried and tried and tried but to no avail. If you were not Dick’s, then what were you?

---------

Dick had taken off his trench coat, sliding his shoes off as he neatly put them right next to yours. He let out a sigh as he loosened his tie. Work had been stressful once again. All he could think about was seeing you and his growing little babies. Of course, he never told anybody. But knowing the thought was between you and him made it special-something so personal and beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see your face and hold you close, talking for hours on end. Anything you said or did made him head over heels, just like it had done to you five years ago. You had been distant and not your usual self, and Dick was worried. He knew of the insecurities you had, feeling like you never had fit into a certain mold.  

He had walked into the kitchen and instead of finding you, he found a dropped knife and kettle that was overflowing with boiling water. It looked like you had left in a hurry. He made sure to check all of the doors to see if you had left, in which you had no. In a calm manner, Dick cleaned up the kettle and put the knife back where it was. He wanted to help so you wouldn’t stress.

The pitter-patter of the shower coming from upstairs alerted Dick. He walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway, seeing the bathroom light creak from the bathroom. Creaking the door open, the all to familiar noise hit his ears. The bathroom was foggy as the shower ran. Looking down, Dick saw the water come to his feet, staining his wet socks. Your flats were spread on the ground along with your knit cardigan, soggy from the water. Inside of the shower was you, clothed with your makeup running, hugging your knees as you looked down.

Dick let out a soft sigh as he looked at you, his shoulder slouching down. It was paining him to see you in this state, “Oh honey..”

You didn’t move, only your eyes did. He walked towards you, into the shower. He wore a white suit and dress pants, which were now we're stuck to his skin. He put himself right next to you as the hot water warmed his cold skin. You adjusted yourself to lean on his wet shoulder. Dick said there as you leaned on him for comfort, listening to the white noise of the shower.

“I tried,” You mumbled as your fingers ran circles in his arm.

Dick looked down at you with his strawberry hair sticking to his forehead and drips of water rushing down his face. He frowned, tiping his head to the side.

“I tried and tried, time after time. I tried so hard and I…” You lamented, grasping onto Dick’s arm. It was hard to spit out the words. You had already said the first half of it, you needed to say more. “I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Dick questioned, his fingers lifting your chin. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your mascara coming down along with it. His thumb wiped away the incoming hot tears. He was too kind to you. His mere presence reassured you. “Don’t cry, my little wife. Let me help you. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I-”

“I can’t have children. Not now, or ever.” The words came out your mouth. It felt like you were spitting fire. It felt strange like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Even though it was gone, it still lingered. “I went to the doctor last week. I’m infertile, Dick.”

Dick just sat with a frown on his face. You couldn’t tell what was going through his head. His free arm had wrapped around your shoulder was slowly falling as he let go of your chin, making an “oh” noise.

You looked at him and let out a sob as your face fell into your hands. “I didn’t wanna tell you. I know you’ve wanted children, every man wants that for their wife. You want a son who looks like you, and a wife who can provide that for you. I can’t. I wanted it too, but I watched my dream break. I’m supposed to give you a baby like a normal wife should...” Through the sniffling and sobs, you refused to look at Dick. He seemed disappointed, but you could never tell what he was feeling. “If you want a wife who can give you a child, then, by all means, do so. I’m worthless.”

You could feel it. Your relationship was over. Maybe it was for the better. Dick could start his family, and you could work a job in Philadelphia. They did have an opening in Philadelphia. It was better to have nobody-so you couldn’t get hurt and hurt others around you.

“No,”

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you turned to Dick. You scooted back, not able to tell if he was upset at you. “No?”

“No. You’re not worthless, y/n.” Dick attested, “What would make you think such a thing?”

“We’ve always wanted a family down the line. You would kiss my stomach every night, talking to the...” You looked down at your flat stomach, your hand gently squeezing the skin. It broke your heart even more just feeling what Dick assumed was Margaret and Thomas. “Just didn’t want you to get mad at me. I know you're upset with me.”

“Don’t give me that malarkey,” He growled, crawled closer to you as he grabbed your cheeks with your foreheads nuzzling towards each other. You could feel the warmth on the top of your forehead, “I’m not upset. You didn’t have to hide this from me. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

Dick tenderly grabbed your shoulders and leaned you back on the white subway wall. He was gentle as he wiped the sticky hair from your face for a clearer view. He had a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with you leaning into it.

“But if I can’t give you children, what good use am I?”

“The reason I married you wasn’t that I wanted a family. At that moment, in that cornfield, I wanted you to be my wife. If I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I would’ve died content with my life,” Dick complimented with a kiss to your wet hand. “You're not just a pawn used for children-my little wife. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t even consider the thought. It’d be hard to find someone like you, y/n. Nobody as hardworking, beautiful, and fiery”

A chuckle escaped your lips, “Like a cornfield?”

“Like a cornfield,” He assured. “I don’t care about children, the past, the future, anything. I married you because I was in love with the beautiful, growing woman five years ago, and I still am. All I care about is my little wife, y/n-you. I love you.”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, “I..love you too, Dick.”

Silent communication was your and Dick’s form of romance. You didn’t need big gestures and materialistic gifts to feel comforted, sometimes you just needed someone right next to you, or in your arms. The silence was nice and the warmth was needed. Dick’s warmth felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. You wished that you could extend the night just so you could stay in his comforting embrace, relived in his hold. In his hold, you believed that there is nothing to fear, that there is all sunshine and love. Dick was the cure you needed, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky, he was the morningstar that you prayed wouldn’t disappear.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dick said as he got up. “I’ll even run you a bath. Does that sound good, my little wife?”

Your fingers held the tip of his hands. Your (y/c/e)‘s met with his mint ones that shined in the pristine light. He gently helped you up with a hand resting on your waist.

Resting a hand on his chin, you looked down and shook your head. “I want to make dinner with you. I feel clean.”

“Are you sure?” Dick questioned, pulling you closer to his body. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Well I’m not tired. I haven’t felt like we’ve talked lately. You’ve been gone and I’ve been distant.” You confessed. The brutally honest was needed now. You tipped your head to look at Dick. “I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“Fine, if you insist,” He placed his hand on your upper back and swept you off your fear. You let out a little chuckle as you snaked an arm around his shoulder for stability, “You said you needed a helping hand.”

Once you and Dick changed out of your wet clothes and into your matching silk robes (gifted by Lew, the man even had your initials engraved into the pocket), the two of you headed down to the kitchen to cook. The radio played in the back and the kettle silently brewed as you sautéed the chicken and Dick set the small table in the tiny dining space.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked behind you as you washed your hands of the greasy oils and spices.

“Did you grow up with dogs?”

You nodded as you dried your hands, “Two-a Westie and Cairn terrier. Your point?”

Dick came over the counter as he leaned on it with a smirk. It wasn’t condescending, but it looked like an idea had popped in his head. You loved it when he smirked or smiled; the dimples on his cheeks would show.

“I know you get lonely when I’m not around. Lew knows a lot of good breeders in the area. How do two dogs sound?”

You were lonely. Loneliness was a feeling you knew all too well. It haunted you as a child and adult. Except when you were a child, you thought it would disappear. But in truth, it did not.

“Two dogs sound nice, Dick,” You confessed. The kettle began to make a shrieking noise. Walking over, you grabbed two cups and poured hot water into them. The water from clear to a darkish brown. You let the bags settle for a few minutes before taking the two cups over and handing one to your strawberry blonde husband.

“There breed? Are we sure Lew won’t try and steal them?”

“Well, Lew wouldn’t steal them. He and Grace already have enough animals to take care of,” Dick put his two big hands around the mug. “Two terriers, a boy, and girl. Just like the ones you grew up with.”

“Ok,” You smiled, raising your eyebrows. “And their names?”

Dick took a sip of his tea before smacking his thin lips. “I was thinking of Margaret and Thomas. Do you like that?”

You finally knew the answer to why Dick was asking about getting dogs. Not that you were in protest. Dogs were like children-just easier to take care of.

“Yeah, I like that a lot.”

Dick put a hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeezed. He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

Within the week, Lew had come over with the cutest puppies you had ever seen. He had also brought over all of the necessary supplies for two puppies, and even two sweaters with their names. One was a feisty and quiet Westie named Thomas and the other was a sweetheart with a sour side named Margaret. You and Dick loved them more than anything in the world. They were fed Filet Mignon from the table, slept in between you and Dick, and always for what they wanted. Even Dick gave into their puppy eyes whenever they got into trouble. The reason he wanted dogs in the first place was for his little wife; y/n-you. Not only did he want to make you feel a little less lonely in your little colonial house, but protected. Dick wasn’t always there to look out for you, even though he knew you could handle yourself just fine. Still, it was the thought that counted. Knowing that you would have two little balls of energy to keep you entertained made Dick content, and so did you.

Lewis Nixon was right all along. He never saw you and Dick having children. In his wise words, dogs were “far superior” than children. Dogs didn’t cry as much, they weren’t as needy, and they didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. Mostly.

You would see the way the dogs would interact with Dick, and how Dick would interact with them. He’d treat them like children. From rocking Margaret in his arms to having long conversations with Thomas about why he shouldn’t bite you his mother while you peacefully sleep, it made your heart skip a beat, seeing Dick be so gentle with the two puppies.

Every night before you would head to bed, Dick would always remind you that his dream had finally come true; buying the little patch of land in Lancaster for the farm was within reach. He’d give you a kiss and pull you close as the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

You broke away from the terrifying cliff that you had looked down, heading towards your morning star, Dick, with hope that it wouldn’t disappear.

[sukkatherapy]

💙{SUKKA PLAYLIST}💚

So in my fandom career, one of the first stages of commitment to a ship is dedicating a music playlist to them. As you may have guessed, Sukka is no exception.

Out of all the playlists I've made, Sukka's was definitely the most fun to make, as they are just so aesthetically pleasing. 🤧

I have 11 songs total and I recommend copying the songs and insert them into a playlist on whatever music service you use.

Good Times ~All Time Low

(you can see my post for this song here)

{"I never wanna leave this sunset town, but one day the time may come. And I'll take it at your word, and carry on. I'll hate the goodbye, but I wont forget the good times."}

Reread those lyrics. I dare you to tell me that isn't the fire nation attack scene in "The Warriors of Kyoshi".

Desert Moon ~ Mena Massoud & Naomi Scott

{"'Cause it waits for you there, and if you see it too, I can find my way to you."}

So the graphics I vision for this song are sorta based around Book 3 Sukka. I headcanon that Sokka would look up to Yue for reassurance when feeling lost, such as when Suki was imprisoned and he had no idea where she was. Also, post-Book 3 when they are in their long distance relationship, I know they would miss each other like crazy. Something I see comforting them is the fact that they see the same moon.

White Horse ~ Taylor Swift

{"I was a dreamer before you went and let me down, now its too late for you and your white horse to come around."}

{"And there you are on your knees. Begging for forgiveness, begging for me."}

Now we all know Suki is our resident independent- badass- queen who doesn't need anyone to look out for her, especially a man. I thought that this song was a good parallel to when she was fed up with Sokka's sexist bs in "The Warriors of Kyoshi". Like I can imagine her having to hear this from so many people around her growing up, and to hear it from someone she showed interest in must be disappointing. Not a super happy rec, but a necessary one nonetheless.

Even When/ The Best Part ~ Olivia Rodrigo & Joshua Basset

{"The best part is knowing there's something in my dreams that always makes me smile, its you. The best part is knowing there's someone in my life that makes it all worth while, its you."}

{"Even when you and I are worlds apart, I hold you in my heart. Even when I'm a thousand miles away, I wish that I could stay with you."}

So oddly enough, I actually find enjoyment in 'High School Musical: The Musical: The Series'. But in the scene, the main couple sang this to each other when they couldn't be together for Valentine's day, and when I first heard it, my head immediately went to Sokka and Suki. Seeing that they had a long distance relationship for a decent amount of time and have many individual responsibilities, they are bound to miss some holidays and events. But even through that, they know they are the most important parts of each others lives.

Like I'm Gonna Lose You ~ Meghan Trainor & John Legend

{"So I'll kiss you longer babe, every chance that I get. I'll make the most of the minutes and love with no regret. Let's take our time to say what we want, use what we got before its all gone. 'Cause no, we're not promised tomorrow."}

I really love this song for them because after losing Yue, Sokka came to appreciate time, and didn't want to waste a moment with Suki. He realized that death can be sudden and real, which was why he was so protective of Suki during 'The Serpent's Pass'.

If I Can't Be With You ~ R5

{"I'd rather stay with you, if I had to choose. Baby you're the greatest, and I got everything to lose. And I just wanna be with you. And I can never get enough. Baby, give it all up I'd give it all up, if I cant be with you."}

I thought this song fit really well, and this lyric in particular reminds me of the failed escape attempt in 'The Boiling Rock Pt. 1'. Suki was willing to give up the concept of freedom if it meant staying to wait for Hakoda with Sokka.

Thinking Out Loud ~ Ed Sheeran

{"'Cause, honey, your soul could never grow old, it's evergreen. And, baby, your smile's forever in my mind and memory. I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways. And maybe it's all part of a plan. Well, I'll just keep on making the same mistakes, hoping that you'll understand.

That, baby, now take me into your loving arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Place your head on my beating heart. I'm thinking out loud, and maybe we found love right where we are."}

Another headcanon service. I can just picture them leisurely dancing to this in the living room when they're married.

Stuck With You ~ Ariana Grande & Justin Bieber

{"So, go ahead and drive me insane. Baby, run your mouth, I still wouldn't change being stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you."}

I thought this would be a good choice because as we see in the show, Suki will humor Sokka's jokes every once in a while versus just brushing them off. I can also see her being like "Hmm, you're an idiot, but I love it. I'm keeping you."

Gotta Find You ~ Joe Jonas

{"I need to try to get to where you are. Could it be you're not that far? You're the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I'm singing. I need to find you, I gotta find you."}

Enough said.👏

Lift Me Up ~ The Afters

{"You know my heart is heavy, and the hurt is deep. But when I feel like giving up, you're reminding me. That we all fall down sometimes, When I hit the ground,

You lift me up when I am weak, your arms wrap around me. Your love catches me, so I'm letting go. You lift me up when I can't see, your heart's all that I need. Your love carries me, so I'm letting go."}

So I really love this song and feel that it could be used for literally any atla ship or even atla as a whole, due to the theme and aesthetic (might mess around and make an edit😏). One of my favorite things about Sukka is how supportive they are of each other, and how easily they make each other happy. They've seen each other at low points, they've been on death row, but through that they were still there cheering each other on.

Lucky ~ Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat

{"They don't know how long it takes, waiting for a love like this. Every time we say goodbye, I wish we had one more kiss. I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will."}

I think this pretty much sums up their time together during 'The Serpent's Pass'. They were apart for so long-and with the war, had no reason to really believe they'd see each other again. But then by chance they were brought together again, revealed their feelings, only to have to split up again. But through that, they didn't let the distance bother them, as they stayed committed to each other.

{"Lucky we're in love in every way. Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed. Lucky to be coming home someday."}

Well, we all know they're hopelessly in love, but I feel like this highlights one of the most important aspects of them; no matter how long or far apart they are, they always come running home to each other.

Well that was defiantly a doozy😅. Thanks to those who stuck around this far!